The Reading of the Card
by wolfgirl2001
Summary: So titled because this is where it diverges from the original trilogy. What if the premise of the 3rd Quarter Quell was different? Katniss and Peeta no longer have to return to the arena. What they must do now may be even harder.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own The Hunger Games trilogy or any of the characters therein. Damn.

I thought _The Hunger Games_ was absolutely amazing, but for me there was a very distinct point in _Catching Fire_ where a plot twist sort of crushed my expectations for how I thought the rest of the story would go. So- eventually I felt compelled to start writing how I envisioned the story might continue if things had been just a little bit different. However, this plot twist came with a lot more story left than my Twilight fanfics (this picks up at the end of Chapter 12 of Catching Fire), so we will see how far I get (and ultimately I have no idea where it will end up). By the way, I loved Peeta in these books. Just so you know what you're getting into.

Chapter 1: "The Quell", only a little different

(Italicized portions towards the beginning represent book excerpts).

_"And now we honor our Third Quarter Quell," says the president. "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that _neither they nor their families _can overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from_ the youngest immediate family members, aged 12 and over, of _the existing pool of victors._"

_My mother gives a faint shriek and _Prim's jaw drops to the floor as her face turns a ghastly white, _but I feel more like the people I see in the crowd on television. Slightly baffled. What does it mean?_ Immediate family members of the _existing pool of victors?_

_Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 has only three victors to choose from._ Haymitch doesn't have family. Peeta's family in that age range would be his brothers. Male. One female….

Prim is going into the arena.

_My body reacts before my mind does and I'm running out the door, across the lawns of the Victor's Village, into the dark beyond. Moisture from the sodden ground soaks my socks and I'm aware of the sharp bite of the wind, but I don't stop. Where? Where to go? The woods, of course, I'm at the fence before the hum makes me remember how very trapped I am. I back away, panting, turn on my heel, and take off again._

_The next thing I know I'm on my hands and knees in the cellar of one of the empty houses in the Victor's Village. Faint shafts of moonlight come in through the window wells above my head. I'm cold and wet and winded, but my escape attempt does nothing to subdue the hysteria rising up inside me. It will drown me unless it's released. I ball up the front of my shirt, stuff it into my mouth, and begin to scream. How long this continues, I don't know. But when I stop, my voice is almost gone._

_I curl up on my side and stare at the patches of moonlight on the cement floor._ Prim is going into the arena. _In the place of nightmares._ I knew that her odds had increased slightly from last year, being a year older. But still- they were supposed to be in her favor. She was only thirteen, and had never signed up for the tesserae. Nor would she ever have needed to, now that we ate so well in the Victor's Village. Had this been any other games, she would have had exactly two slips of paper in the reaping ball among thousands. Not that that has to matter. I think back briefly to last year.

_There's some kind of sheeting, the kind they put down when they paint. I pull it over me like a blanket. _I simply cannot believe that my absolute worse-case scenario is happening. This exact situation is the one that I risked my life last year to painstakingly avoid. I have to watch my baby sister enter an arena so vicious; it took every fiber of my determination and resolve to make it out alive, and not without emotional and psychological damage (physical, too, if they hadn't mended my ear). I wouldn't wish being a tribute on my worst enemies, never mind the person I love more than anything in the world. Not only that, but unlike last year, I can't simply step in and volunteer, take control of the situation. I am on the outside looking in, helpless.

I hear names calling out to me, and I realize that I am being unconscionably selfish. I should be there for Prim. I immediately hop up and brush the dust off. I then break into a run for the few houses I have to traverse until I have arrived home. I enter our house to see both my mother and Prim sobbing, holding onto each other for dear life. The guilt at being by myself, even if it was only for the last hour, gnaws at me. I join the hug of my mother and sister and it doesn't take long before my tears start flowing with theirs. Yet even under my sadness, my rage towards President Snow and anything Capitol-related bubbles up effervescently to the surface. I take turns bawling, and then seething, though I choose to keep my hateful comments to myself. Prim doesn't need to hear them.

After a while of this, Prim says she's exhausted and asks to go to her room and be by herself, and a few minutes later my mother attends to a miner who has been brought in with a somewhat serious leg burn. Emotionally drained, yet filled with pent-up anger, I decide to walk over to see Haymitch.

Haymitch is sitting at his table, a glass of white liquor in his hands, the remainder of the bottle resting in the middle of the table like a centerpiece. But he's not alone. Peeta sits next to him, clutching his own glass half-filled with liquid. Funny, I had been thinking I would want the exact same thing when I got here. Peeta takes one look at my face and without another word crosses the room to retrieve another cup for me. He fills it practically to the brim and sets it down on the table next to him, patting the empty chair. I manage to crack a one-quarter smile on the side of my mouth; even in his misery, Peeta is kind to me. But as I take a closer look at his face, it seems as though there is a whole other level of complex emotions on which I appear to be missing out, more than just sadness for one of his brothers and anger at the Capitol. When I zoom in on Haymitch's face, who isn't losing any family, the answer becomes crystal-clear.

_We aren't on the outside looking in. We have to train them._ And between Peeta's brother and Prim, only one of them will make it out alive.

I think back to my time in the arena. When it first occurred to me that winning would carry with it the responsibility of mentoring the next year's tributes, I had thrust the idea from my mind forcefully, thoroughly repulsed. Well, now the pendulum has swung back, and the thought crashes into my mind with the force of a Mack truck. Reeling, I half-stumble over to the table and clutch the chair next to Peeta before lowering myself gingerly on it. I now grasp the entirety of what he is feeling. An additional burden of insurmountable pressure and anxiety, conflict and confusion- after all, I want Prim to live more than anything, but I certainly don't want one of Peeta's brothers to die. I pick up my glass and take a glug of the foul-smelling liquid, which burns my insides. Good. Most of my insides were burning already. Now they all match.

"Well," slurs Haymitch. "I know you guys won't see the silver lining, but the good news is that since we are the only three victors, and we don't have very many relatives, we essentially know already who we're going to be working with, months ahead of time. This gives us a distinct advantage over most of the other districts. We can start training and figuring out our strategy as early as tomorrow."

Haymitch is right- neither Peeta nor I can yet see exactly how he can say this is good news. We both tip back our glasses and finish our drinks.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The next morning, I wake up with a God-awful hangover. I have no point of reference, really, but the pounding that fills my head, seemingly loud as a jackhammer, nausea that hits my stomach as soon as I stir from bed, and complete dehydration that I feel-from my chapped lips the dried skin on my feet- tells me that it must be. If Haymitch continues to drink merely to avoid this feeling- well, I guess I can understand that.

I groggily get out of bed, walk down the hallway towards the bathroom. I pass Prim's empty room, then notice the door slightly ajar to my mother's room further down the hallway and see them both sleeping peacefully. I feel awful. For going out and getting drunk, when Prim is the one that is suffering far more than myself. I should have stayed here, waiting until she let me in her room, stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Instead, I stumble home late into the night and pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. I look down at my shirt to see that a wet spot of drool had accumulated near the neckline. What a mess I am. I decide to draw a bath, get dressed, get something to drink and find something to help remedy my current state, and then figure out what the plans are with Peeta and Haymitch. I also need to figure out how I am going to make it through the next three months. Well, three months and however long the seventy-fifth Hunger Games last.

Sitting in the tub, I realize that my reaction last night, perhaps while justified in my mind at the time, was not going to get anyone anywhere. I must be stronger than this. I soak in the tub a long time, collecting my thoughts, trying to absorb water back into my body through osmosis. When I am ready, I dress and head down to the kitchen, where I attempt to drink a glass of water twice as large the one containing whatever alcohol I had consumed the previous night. I get about halfway through when another bout of nausea hits me. Disgusted with myself for wasting so much time, I dig through my mother's remedies until I find some generic pain pills. I pop two, then leave Prim and mother still sleeping and walk the short distance to check in with Haymitch.

The first thing I realize that could be construed as silver lining is that us mentors- Haymitch, Peeta, and I, as well as at least one mentee- Prim, all live within a few houses of each other. Both of Peeta's brothers were still living with his parents above the bakery, but that could easily be remedied by one of them moving into Victor's Village with Peeta- he had plenty of extra room. My mother would then be the only one living in our entire part of town not directly involved in training for the Quarter Quell. Absolute secrecy- other than any surveillance mechanisms that has been rigged by the Capitol of course- something that most certainly could come in handy.

I arrive at Haymitch's to find Peeta already there- and he looks as rough as I do, if not more so. Apparently, the glass of alcohol he drank with me was actually his second, and he couldn't walk home, so he stayed. So unlike him- so unlike _both_ of us. Haymitch, being used to it, simply laughed at our expense.

I sit down at the table again, but tightly screw the cap back on the liquor bottle still taunting us at the center of the table. Just looking at it makes me feel dizzy. I look at Haymitch and Peeta in turn, and while Peeta looks like he is struggling to keep his breakfast down, he still returns my gaze.

"I'm sorry about last night," I begin, speaking to them both. "That was no way to react." They both nod slowly, Peeta in agreement, Haymitch in understanding. I continue. "I'm ready to get started. Do whatever we need to do to ensure that both Prim and your brother," I look at Peeta as I say this, "come home as the victors. Hey, it happened last year," I say to Haymitch, the evidence right before him.

"All right," Haymitch replies, sounding remarkably sober despite all evidence to the contrary, "It's about time. I'm glad you're both here. Peeta and I were waiting for you to arrive before we discussed anything. First of all, all three of us are going to be conducting the training equally for the next few months. We need to maximize what these kids are exposed to. You have both been through it all before, so you will be able to teach them a lot more than you realize. Peeta, it doesn't matter if your brothers are bigger and stronger and can even decorate cakes better, you've been through training at the Games, so you can still show them camouflaging, hand-to-hand combat, fire-starting. Katniss, obviously archery, hunting game, and edible plants are your biggest strengths, though you have many. Now listen, I don't want any hesitation out of either one of you in training the other's siblings. They will all be trained together. Peeta, Prim is your sister. Do not hold anything back. Katniss, whichever of Peeta's brothers gets chosen, Paavo or Paca, you show them everything you know. Everything. Got it?"

I hesitate. I trust Peeta, but only after everything we've been through together- I don't know his brothers from Adam. Do I want to teach Prim's competitors how they can effectively kill her? I'm not so sure. But Peeta immediately answers, "Of course," and I find myself feeling guilty. I owe my life to the boy with the bread, many times over. Without trusting him, and Haymitch, I would never have gotten this far. I can't very well lose sight of this now, hold back. So, despite the risk that this ultimately could end up being against my better judgment, I nod my head.

"Good," says Haymitch. "We'll start all of that tomorrow. But all of the training MUST be conducted within our homes, so that no one, not even from our own district, can witness it. Understood?"

Peeta and I both nod. This puts a bit of a kink in things, but our homes are plenty large enough to set up a few basic training exercises. And since money is no longer an object, over time we'll be able to purchase everything that we need to simulate different environments of the Games.

"Now, Peeta, do you know which of your brothers is going to be more up to this task? Will one volunteer for the other? Or should we train both of them equally?"

"I'm…I'm not sure," he replies, thoughtfully, wistfully. "I think if Paca were picked Paavo might volunteer for him," he says in a small voice. Undoubtedly he was thinking back to his own Reaping Day, when crickets chirped in the few minutes after he was called forward. "They…. are a lot closer to each other than either one of them are to me. And if I had to guess who had the better chance, I would say Paavo anyway. He was the one who won the wrestling tournament at our school."

Haymitch takes this in. "Can you talk to him about it? Confirm it? Tonight?"

Peeta hesitates. "I doubt that he would open up to me," he says honestly. I look over at Peeta, and it looks almost as though he is about to cry. Haymitch has clearly hit a nerve. I feel a rush of sympathy for him, since I can't imagine not being close to your own brother, because I definitely can't imagine not being close to Prim. I also feel utter confusion, because I can't imagine anyone not wanting to be close to Peeta- especially someone that has known him all his life. I wish I understood.

Haymitch sighs back. "Okay, they will be trained equally then, at least initially." He takes a drink of liquor- how, after last night, I don't know- and addresses us again. "All right, now we need to start thinking about our angle."

Peeta and I glance at each other. "Our angle?" we say in unison.

Haymitch sighs, exasperated. "Yes, your angle! You know, like you two? Girl on Fire. Costumes blazing. Unity through holding hands. Holding back on your individual talents until the one-on-one with the Gamemakers. Top training scores. Twirling and giggling in a flame dress. Unrequited love. The Star-crossed lovers from District 12! Any of this ring a bell? How can we top that?"

Peeta and I look at each other again, dumbfounded. To us, the answer is pretty simple- we can't.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

There are several moments of silence, before Haymitch suggests we chew on it while we walk into town to get supplies. The Capitol knowing that we will have a strategy for how we present the tributes is no big deal- but that doesn't mean that they need to know, if they're listening, exactly what that strategy is.

The wind howls loudly as we walk, and finally Peeta speaks up in a timid voice. We can barely hear him. "Couldn't we, um, just do that same angle again? Star-crossed lovers? I mean, it worked once, right? And it would be pretty easy to see how Prim and one of my brothers would have met- through everything Katniss and I have been doing on the Victory Tour, preparing for the wedding. It's only natural that they would be introduced eventually. And if we were able to get two victors because of love, when there has only ever been one victor in the previous seventy-three years, why tempt fate? Perhaps we shouldn't mess with the formula too much."

I wrinkle my nose. Prim was just thirteen, far too young to be in the throes of a serious relationship. Besides, Peeta's brothers were far older- seventeen and eighteen, I believe- and the age difference was just plain creepy to me. However, I would certainly deal with the discomfort if it was the only way to keep Prim alive. Before I have a chance to voice my mixed opinions, however, Haymitch lets out a condescending grunt.

"Peeta, the stunt you two pulled with the berries has gotten the Capitol far too angry to ever attempt that kind of rebellion again. After everything you've seen happen to our district since your victory, how could you even suggest that?"

Peeta flushed with embarrassment. "I don't know, I was just trying to think of a way to keep them both alive…"

I jump in. "What if we somehow play up their importance in our wedding? That way," I suggest, "the Capitol becomes more invested in them. They certainly don't want the wedding to be ruined." Peeta looks at me gratefully for diverting Haymitch's attention.

Haymitch considers this for a moment. "Maybe. Let's chew on it. We have plenty of time. But we need to come up with individual angles as well. There might be other ways to keep both of the District 12 tributes alive as a pair. But we need to focus on getting them sponsors first, so that they can get past the other tributes," He has an expression as he says this that is completely unreadable, like he is hiding something.

Peeta and I shrug and continue the walk into town. We all agree that Prim's best asset is her naiveté, and that the best way to exploit it is to have her be herself, particularly in the interview phase. Paavo and Paca are older, bigger, and stronger than Peeta, so perhaps since this scenario allows for months of training as well they can learn to master a heavy weapon in that time. Then whoever is chosen could play sullen, hostile, and dangerous in the Games, like Thresh did in our year. Peeta says that both of his brothers are pretty sullen and hostile anyway.

We buy some things in town that will assist us in training- paint materials for camouflage, different objects that could be used as archery targets, and a few other miscellaneous items that tend to work themselves into the games (string, wire, containers for water, and the few weapon-like objects we could find, even though thanks to the Peacekeepers presence, they couldn't do any real damage). It takes us considerably more time to lug our purchases back home, so by the time we arrived back at Haymitch's all three of the potential District 12 tributes are already there.

Paavo and Paca are standing, closely huddled, whispering to one another. I think that this may be the first time that I have looked at either one of them up close. They are blond and stocky like Peeta, but are much taller and share few of his features- they look distinctly more like their mother. And unlike Peeta, they look almost menacing. I am amazed that they are all related. Though I guess you could say the same thing about me and Prim.

Prim is standing there, too. She is wearing her reaping day outfit from last year, her hair done in braids, nervously playing with them. Our mother no doubt had her dress this way (why, I have no idea- who did she want to impress, Haymitch?), and she is standing as far from Paavo and Paca as possible within the constraints of Haymitch's backyard.

Haymitch, as usual, takes control. Unlike last year, however, he seems like he really has it together, despite the alcohol. He seems to take Peeta's and my presence seriously- which I am grateful for. "All right," he begins, "this is strictly voluntary training. Hell, I'd rather be home drinking." I begin to wonder if I should retract my last thought when he continues. "But we know based on the Reading of the Card that of the three of you, two will be chosen as District 12 tributes for the Third Quarter Quell." He looks at Prim. "Sorry, sweetheart." Prim glances at her feet as a quiet tear slips down her cheek. Paavo and Paca stop their hushed whispering, and Paavo eases a few steps forward and hesitantly speaks up. "Haymitch?" Despite the dissimilarity of their looks, his voice sounds exactly like Peeta's. I do a double-take.

Haymitch agrees, he is taken aback for a moment, but recovers quickly and responds, "Yes?"

Paavo continues. "I- I- would like to volunteer to be the tribute for District 12 if I am not selected." He briefly falters, glances down, but then returns his gaze to Haymitch and I after a moment, determined. I notice that he does not look at Peeta. "I would rather you dismiss Paca now and focus the training solely on myself. I feel that the more individual training I receive the better my chances will be."

Haymitch considers this. "And what if your brother happens to possess more natural ability? What if he is better suited to playing the games than you are?"

In response, Paavo gives Haymitch a half-grin. "The two of us have discussed it at length," he gestures to Paca and himself. "We are closer to each other than anyone in the world. We know each other's strengths and weaknesses. And we have both agreed that I am better suited to stepping into the arena."

I glance over at Peeta, who is nearly in tears. Haymitch, however, looks relieved. One less decision for him to make. "Very well," he replies, "Paca, you may go."

Paca turns and begins the long walk back into town, to the bakery. I don't know if he voice sounds like Peeta's or not- he didn't say anything.

"Okay then," Haymitch's voice brings us back to Earth, to Panem. "This is how voluntary training will work. It will be twelve hours a day from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. - and Peeta, Katniss, and I will each take a four-hour shift. I am calling the second shift so that I have plenty of time to have a hair of the dog in the morning, and so that I can get an early start to happy hour. Peeta- you're used to getting up early, you take the morning shift- and Katniss- you do evenings. Every day but Sunday. From now until the Games. If Katniss and Peeta have any Capitol business to attend to, you will stay here and use that time to watch the other Hunger Games on TV. Got it?"

Paavo and Prim nod quietly. They know how much their life is going to change.

Haymitch adds, "Oh, and Paavo, you are to stay here with Peeta. With your training schedule, walking here from the bakery is a waste of time and energy."

Paavo shakes his head. "I refuse." His voice fills with rage, which distorts it to the point that I cannot hear Peeta in it anymore. "I will no longer live with someone who so openly shames our mother."

Peeta in turn glares at him with daggers for eyes and replies, "She shamed herself."

I look at Peeta in shock, amazed that those words just came out of his mouth. But based on what little I've seen of Peeta's mother, I can't say I had a good impression of her- I think back to the day with the bread, the beating Peeta took for burning two loaves- it was hardly a fair punishment.

Haymitch, however, thinking none of this, merely rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says to Paavo, "stay with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

After briefing Paavo and Prim on what was expected of them, Haymitch dismisses them both, and Prim and I head back to our house to relax for our last night of freedom. Peeta heads off in the other direction, and Paavo then follows Haymitch to his place, where Hazelle had already graciously prepared a room for him.

Just before 8 a.m. the next morning, I escort Prim to Peeta's yard, where he is looking over a thick packet of notes. At 8 a.m. sharp, an alarm sounds from inside Peeta's house, after which he launches into a series of calisthenics, directing Prim and Paavo to follow him through stretches and leg movements and sit-ups. I can't help but smile at Peeta's enthusiasm. Though I'm not sure Paavo would agree- in fact, if Prim and I weren't there, I don't know if he would be following Peeta at all- he scowls the entire time. Prim is not particularly animated but follows along obediently. While I had been planning to gracefully exit as soon as I dropped Prim off, Peeta was so motivated I find myself sticking around.

Two hours later, after Peeta has completely exercised them out, he moves Prim and Paavo inside to work on camouflaging for the remainder of his portion of the training session. Peeta had all of the paints that we purchased in the square laid out for our siblings to use (he also had several plants that they could substitute for a brush to better simulate resources that would be available in the arena), and he briefly demonstrates to Prim and Paavo several different brush techniques. They quickly begin practicing the basic brush skills, though clearly, Paavo does not have the frosting experience that Peeta does. His simple daisy looks much more like a monstrous yellow porcupine.

Haymitch shows up around eleven-thirty, lit up like a Christmas tree. I try to pull Prim aside and explain to her that he is nauseous and sick, but she just laughs at me and tells me that she has seen drunkenness with the miners enough times to recognize it. He starts after noon and slurs for half-hour or so increments, between which he takes breaks to either run to the nearest bathroom or down a few swigs of his flask. Prim and Paavo look on with a combination of anxiety and disgust. I wonder if Haymitch is just nervous. By three-thirty he is passed out on Peeta's porch, head back and mouth wide open, snoring. I decide that this is a strong signal that I should take over early.

I am relieved that Peeta plans to work the physical activity into his four hours- because I have a lot that I can teach them. Though the archery part will have to wait- my bow and arrows are still hidden deep in the woods, guarded 24/7 by the electrified fence. I begin with the book that Peeta has been helping me make in the last several weeks, explaining to them everything that I know about the plants I've encountered in the woods, but I am cursing the fact that I can't show them firsthand because of my carelessness in the woods with Gale. I also recount to Paavo and Prim stories of my survival in the Games- sure, I was lucky in a lot of ways, and I couldn't have done it without Peeta, but there were several occasions where I know that I could have died if I hadn't used what I knew about feeding myself in the woods. Just learning which berries to eat and which ones to avoid saved my life at least twice.

I am quite tired after talking for over four hours, and Haymitch is still passed out, but Peeta has stayed and hung onto my every word. I dismiss Paavo and Prim, who immediately run their separate directions, relieved that their grueling day is finally over. But Peeta stays and gives me a little round of applause, and when I turn to follow Prim home, he asks if he can come with me.

"Please, Katniss? I want to explain something. I wanted to last night, but you had already left with Prim. I won't stay too long," he pleads, desperation in his voice.

I shrug my shoulders, and when I turn to walk home, he quickly catches up with me.

"Look," he begins earnestly, "I feel like I need to give you an explanation as to why I said what I did to my brother the other night."

I look at him expectantly. Of course I was curious to know what could make him say that.

He continues. "It's just….my mom has always worked really hard, and she always did her best to provide for us. But she was always cold, distant- never affectionate with us, never showed us that she loved us, even my dad, at all really. On the day that I first met you, I came home and couldn't stop talking about you. My mom asked me what your name was, and when I told her, I think she knew somehow- that you were the daughter of a girl that my father loved before he had loved her- and I think she just got really jealous. She started being really cruel to me- hitting me for almost no reason, belittling me in front of the rest of my family. She never did it to my brothers. What you saw at the bakery that day? It was normal for me." He takes a deep breath.

I don't say anything, fascinated, letting him unfold his story. He continues.

"And one day a couple of months before the Games last year- I just snapped. It was right after the bakery had closed for the day and everyone but my father was there- he had opened up the shop early that morning so he was home asleep. She slapped me across the face for counting the money wrong, and the salt on her hands from baking went into my eye. I don't know if I told you this before, but I met your mother once- I had a burn from the oven that needed mending. I think you were gone, but I saw her- and she was patient and nurturing and comforting- just how I hoped my mother could be and never was. So when my mom slapped me, I snapped, I don't know why that time specifically, but I did. I screamed at her that I wish that my father _had_ married your mother, or at least someone like her, because he deserved more than to be married to a witch. That was it really- my brothers heard me say it, and as soon as I said it they were on her side, and I never really got along with them again. Of course, my dad and I had a long talk that night, and even though he wouldn't speak badly of her, I knew that he understood. We've stayed close."

My mind is swimming with all of the details that Peeta has just relayed to me. I look at him, and he is clearly still heartbroken from all of this. I immediately decide that I am grateful for my own mother, despite her emotional absence in a really critical time in my life (and Prim's). I just can't fathom life where your mother didn't want the best for you, where she actually wished you harm, and inflicted it. I also feel guilt, even though I didn't do anything wrong- I had something to do with how awful his mother had been treating him? This information tugs at my heartstrings, makes me want to reach out to Peeta- I think because it also makes me realize how the odds were going against him, how small a chance he had to become the big-hearted guy that he has. I take his hand and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He smiles. "I'm glad that I told you."

I nod. "Me, too. Come on."

I keep his hand held through the entrance of our house, up the stairs, and down the hallway into my bedroom. We fall asleep talking, his arms wrapped securely around me, and mine around him, trying to comfort him in any way that I can. Neither of us has nightmares. This is the first time since Gale was whipped that I let Peeta share my bed.

But when we wake up, it's the start of another long training day.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

The training process quickly becomes somewhat of a routine. I almost always wake up early so that I can walk Prim over to Peeta's and join them and Paavo for physical training. Paavo might be in just as good a shape as Peeta anyway, but sheer competitiveness and the desire to show Peeta up keeps him pushing his limits. Peeta, the genuine motivator, doesn't seem to care that that is the reason Paavo is excelling. Prim is fast but not particularly strong or coordinated; I shudder when I see her attempt to swing around the heavy objects meant to represent various weapons. But as time progresses, she begins to improve.

After the morning workout, which increasingly incorporates a lot of the heavy lifting, throwing, weapon handling, and martial arts, we sit down at the table and work on camouflaging until lunch. Peeta begins to show Paavo and Prim some of the more difficult techniques, such as the intricate painting used to conceal him in the arena for so long, but neither of them possesses the gift that Peeta does. However, they practice the some of the basic techniques, particularly concealment with leaves, so many times that they both become quite proficient at them.

Haymitch arrives for lunch, usually in a drunken stupor, but with enough wit about him to give them a fair amount of strategic advice. Certainly more than he ever gave Peeta or me, and we did well enough. As he talks to our siblings, Peeta and I sit together and talk amongst ourselves, about how his brother and my sister are doing, strategies for us to give them more effective training, and, on the rare occasion when we actually feel on top of things, about nothing in particular. But Haymitch frequently ends early or takes a long lunch, or otherwise randomly disappears for stretches of time. Wanting to maximize their training, and since we hadn't been subpoenaed for any wedding-related events as of yet, during Haymitch's absences we've popped in a few old Hunger Games videos. However, we also occasionally capitalize on the chance for Prim and Paavo to relax a little bit before I focus on survival skill training in the afternoons and evenings.

Not long after we started training, in fact it was the first day that we were off, I headed towards the woods and the District 12 boundary. Despite the warning that the fence would be electrified, when I found it, it was completely silent. I had gone there thinking about Gale, about how I missed our Sundays catching game, but as soon as I saw that the fence was temporarily uncharged all thoughts of Gale left my mind. I had absolutely no idea how long I would be able to go through the fence or stay in the woods but I knew that I couldn't take any longer than absolutely necessary. I dashed into the woods to retrieve my bow and arrows, and when I sprinted back and heard that the fence was still silent, I heaved a gigantic sigh of relief.

Later, I found out that the fence had been de-electrified indefinitely- that was the problem with the mines being shut down for weeks, and with the Capitol needing to fight revolts- they needed their electricity. Running that much electricity to maintaining the fence simply to keep one girl from hunting game was pretty wasteful. But even though after this point I knew I could meet up with Gale in theory, I didn't dare. Having seen our kiss, the Capitol had to be monitoring things pretty closely. And while I might risk my own life to see him, there was no way I could risk Prim's. We did manage to send brief messages back and forth through his mother, but they were mostly of the "Things are fine," variety. He didn't need to know how stressful and intense things were here, and he was probably too busy in the mines to think about it much, anyway.

So after acquiring my bow and arrows, I was able to start archery instruction as part of Prim and Paavo's training. Unfortunately, Prim was dreadful. The first week she couldn't even load the arrow properly, and simply did not have a steady hand. Even after a few weeks of practice, she was not improving quickly enough to make it worth continuing. Paavo was no master in archery but learned enough to get by- though he won't be killing anything fast anytime soon. In regards to combat, I think he felt much more comfortable with knives after using them so much at the bakery. Since I knew that Peeta was much better with knives than I was, I made a mental note to tell him about it during Haymitch's shift.

Prim and Paavo fare better with the rest of my survival skills instruction. Prim is excellent with the plants, no doubt because she had come across so many in healing- though Paavo is no slouch either, since presumably he has seen at least some of them in the bakery. Both do well with building fires and preparing the game once it has been killed. It's capturing the game that will be difficult. But Prim and Paavo both do well at the simple snares that I show them. I sigh. I wish I knew more complex ones, but those are Gale's specialty.

After my portion of the training, I alternate- half the time I walk home with Prim and stay with her, and half the time I walk with Peeta and stay there. My mother made it clear to me after she saw Peeta and I sleeping next to one another that first night that she didn't approve- not because she didn't like Peeta, or suspected anything illicit was going on, but simply because I had a thirteen-year old sister who slept in the next room over, and she didn't feel that I was setting a very good example. However, given what Peeta and I have been through together, she doesn't try to cut me off from the one person who makes me feel secure, suppresses my nightmares- she simply requests that I go somewhere else, which, since Peeta had absolutely no one living with him, is not a big deal. I feel torn though- I want to sleep in the comfort of Peeta's arms every night, but I have to be there for my sister, too.

About a month away from the start of the Quell, we see significant improvement in our tributes, but not enough that would make Peeta or I feel that we have some distinct advantage. Rather, we have merely matched some of the advantages that the tributes from wealthier districts already had. But Haymitch is pleased. One Saturday, he sticks around to watch my component of the training, which in and of itself is a minor miracle based on how often he tends to disappear even during his own training session. More surprising, he is grinning from ear to ear, yelling out compliments to Prim and Paavo as they build fires. Peeta is there too and looks at Haymitch like he's lost it. Haymitch puts on some loud Capitol music from a tape of the previous games, I'm guessing to motivate Prim as she quickly gathers kindling and lights it. But Haymitch immediately shoos Prim and Paavo away and calls Peeta and I over to him with a giant sweeping motion of his arm.

I am flabbergasted as I approach Haymitch. "What the….Prim and Paavo still had to…" I begin. But Haymitch quickly pulls Peeta and I into a huddle and begins whispering fervently.

"Look, sweetheart, Peeta, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. In the time that I haven't been here I have spent some time contacting the victors from other districts- particularly the ones who are rebelling. A pain in the ass, too, since we can't use our home phones, but that's another story. Anyway, we know that the rebels have a fair amount of influence in Districts, 3, 4, 7, 8, and possibly eleven. So I have been asking the other mentors what their plans are for this year's Games- whether we were going to show signs of our rebellion in the arena, or whether we need to act as if nothing has happened and wait until the forces are stronger, possibly next year. The answer was overwhelming support for the former."

I try to process this, but can't. "So, you mean….the other districts want to 'Rebel at the Quell'?" I don't care that I made a lame joke. I can barely contain my excitement. Peeta looks exactly how I feel- his eyes are sparkling.

"Shhhhhhh," Haymitch warns. No one can likely hear us, but we are paranoid. I immediately nod my head in apology. "Anyway, remember how I mentioned that there might be other ways that Prim and Paavo can both survive? Well, I think we've got it all figured out."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Peeta and I are stunned. All we can say is "What?"

Haymitch can sense both the surprise and the request for further information. He starts to explain. "They are going to take a "no killing each other" pact with the tributes from all of the rebelling districts- twelve tributes in all. The goal is that they will form an alliance to take down all of the tributes from the other six districts, including the Careers- but when it gets down to the twelve of them, or however many of them survive, they won't do any harm to each other at all. The Capitol will be forced to acknowledge their failure."

I am immediately skeptical. I need some questions answered before I'm willing to even entertain this possibility on behalf of Prim. I ask him: "Well, what if the Capitol just decides to kill all of them but the winner through natural causes?"

"Well, that's the beauty of it," he replies. "First of all, the Capitol doesn't want the Games to end that way, it's boring and clearly manipulated, there's no sense of reality to it at all. Secondly, the tributes in alliance will be together- so it will be exceedingly difficult to have natural causes kill all but one of them. It just doesn't make sense."

"Okay, so let's say five of them are left after the Careers are taken out," Peeta says. "Those five will simply sit there? Not do anything? Not attack each other?"

"That's right," Haymitch replies. "And believe it or not, it has never happened before. There have been several instances where only the members of an alliance were left- it has happened a few times with the Careers, in fact. But there was always the expectation that there was only going to be one winner, and there were always cracks in the alliance that would happen as the Games progressed. So by the time the arena was whittled down to four or five tributes, they were in it for themselves and no one else. They were near the end and wanted to win, wanted to get out of there, go home to their families. So the alliances have always crumbled."

"How do we know that it won't happen again?" I whisper.

"Because, Katniss," Haymitch says. "The tributes are going to be thinking of themselves as rebels, part of a larger plan to take down the Capitol. They have to. And if they lose their lives in the process, then so be it. But that's what we all have to do."

I take this in. Haymitch is right. And for the first time, I am not completely dreading the Quarter Quell. This is our chance. A chance for all of the districts that want freed from the Capitol's tyrannical grasp to make a statement that we weren't going to play their Games anymore. It's absolutely brilliant- if it works. The logistics sound incredibly complicated.

"How are they going to get past the Careers?" Peeta asks. "I mean, some of the tributes haven't even been selected yet. They won't have a lot of time to train."

"Well," replies Haymitch, "In a few of the districts that haven't produced many winners, similar to ours, there is talk that the tributes have already started informal training, like we're doing. If you know your chances are going to be that high in getting picked, why wouldn't you? Also, we're all going to have to keep very tight communication. The tributes will all have access to each other during training and will be able to solidify their alliance, secretly, of course. They also might receive some clues during their training as to what type of environment the Games will be in. We need to instruct Prim and Paavo to pay close attention to the survival skill stations and report that information back to us. We, along with the other mentors in rebel districts, are going to have to pitch some possible strategies for taking down the Careers based on the information that we receive. Hopefully, the tributes will be receptive to those ideas and share them with each other, and decide on one that might actually work."

Wow, do we have a lot to think about. Haymitch dismisses us, letting us mull things over tonight before being there to make the announcement with him in the morning to Prim and Paavo. I decide to stay with Peeta tonight; there is no way after feeling this abuzz from excitement that I will be able to keep the information from Prim if we are in the same room. Peeta and I, on a high from the news and having a plan to put into action, hold hands on the brief walk to his place. Since we're a little earlier than normal, we haven't missed the sun set, and we slow our pace even more, not wanting to go inside until it disappears. The sky is lit up with orange and pink hues, and Peeta looks at it, mesmerized. He then looks at me and brushes a strand of hair away from my face.

"What a gorgeous evening," he breaths. His eyes are wide, his long lashes curling back to his forehead.

"Yeah, it is," I reply, allowing my head to rest on his shoulder. We are outside his house now, watching from his porch the sun beginning to drop over the horizon. "Peeta, what do you think about everything Haymitch said today?"

"I'm not sure. I- I just hope that it works as well as Haymitch made it sound like it will," he says carefully.

"Yeah, I agree." I chuckle. "I'm not used to planning rebellion in advance. I'm usually pretty good at creating it spontaneously."

Peeta looks at me seriously. "You accomplish a lot without thinking ahead." I know he doesn't mean this as an insult necessarily, yet I feel a little sting by his remark. And I know instantly what he is referring to.

"I thought that you weren't going to act so hurt anymore?" I am thinking back to our conversation a while back when he apologized to me for letting his bruised ego dictate how he treated me after the Games.

"I'm not acting, Katniss," he says sadly. "This is just so crazy. We're getting married soon." But after a moment, he makes an effort to keep his emotions in check. His voice rises considerably. "So how do you think Prim will take the news tomorrow?" he asks me.

"I think she'll be relieved," I say. "She just doesn't have the natural ability that some of the other tributes do. She's not as strong. I think she'll feel more secure knowing that not all of the other tributes will be out to hurt her." I look at him. "What about Paavo?"

"I- I'm not sure," Peeta replies. "He isn't one for the spotlight, doesn't like so much attention being focused on him, so this is never something he would have signed up for on his own. But he's always been the most aggressive one in our family. I get the sense that he thinks that he could have a chance to win the Games, and he has a tendency to fixate on things. I think he might actually be disappointed that he won't have a shot at being the winner."

"They'll all be winners," I respond. "Every one of them, if they can pull this off."

"Yeah," he muses, "…but will we?" I know that he isn't talking about the Games anymore. He's talking about our Capitol-arranged marriage.

It's on my mind, too. I can't help but think that the ceremony is going to be intimately interwoven with the Quell somehow. I look at Peeta, thinking back to his offer to provide Thresh and Rue's families with an annual month's winnings. I think of Haymitch's words: _'You could do a lot worse, you know'_. Looking at him now, earnest and attentive as he waits for my response, it's easy to decipher his feelings for me. My feelings for him will never be as pure or uncomplicated, especially as long as Gale remains even at the fringes of my life. But I will marry the boy with the bread, and hope that our life together, while containing a lot of pretense and showmanship for the Capitol, can also contain those moments where no one else exists but the two of us, completely comfortable with ourselves and each other, like we experienced a few precious times in the arena, or right here at his house. I meet his eyes. "Yes," I whisper, "I think we will."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

I sleep peacefully in Peeta's arms that night, but wake up the next morning with a sense of anxiety at how Prim and Paavo will take Haymitch's announcement. I bounce out of bed, quickly run home to change, and am out at Haymitch's house at 8 a.m. sharp. Of course, Haymitch doesn't want to stand there and shout it from the rooftops, so he suggests that we take a walk into town to pick up some additional supplies. Peeta and I walk along with them, not having to speak, as Haymitch whispers the plans. Their reactions are not surprising- Prim gives a visible sigh of relief, and looks genuinely excited to be any part of a scheme meant to challenge the Capitol. Paavo remains composed, nods his head in assent to the plan- but you can see that he looks just a hair disappointed. That's what the Hunger Games will do to you. Tributes think of the glory, the riches, everything worth fighting for in the end- which is the only thing that keeps it going. But Haymitch reassures Paavo that what we'll all be doing will result in a much greater sense of accomplishment, and Paavo seems more enthusiastic with regard to Haymitch's plans after that.

In the town square, we pick up a few miscellaneous items that Prim and Paavo need for their training- replenishing the camouflaging materials, looking for anything that could substitute as a body-double for a tribute (on which they can practice their weaponry), and anything to simulate what either of them could find in an unassuming backpack in the arena.

When we get back to Haymitch's, Prim and Paavo resume training. Haymitch has brought in a special guest- a man now living in our district who inexplicably is excellent with knives (rumor has it he had come from District 4 and had gutted thousands and thousands of fish, but no one seems to have any idea of how he ended up here, including Haymitch- though Haymitch assures us he is trustworthy). Peeta and Paavo were able to obtain a nice-looking knife from the bakery, so Paavo was going to be focusing his efforts on mastering knifework (and I suppose Prim was going to give it a shot- she couldn't possibly be worse at knives than she was at archery). After all, if Clove could advance so far in the Games (though it didn't hurt that Cato was her district partner), than Paavo certainly could do well for himself- take out other tributes, kill game. They immediately get started.

Peeta and I are looking on when I see my mom walk slowly over towards us. I know the news even before she reaches us- Peeta and I have been summoned for a wedding-related event by the Capitol. Sure enough, she says as she approaches, "Katniss, Peeta- your prep teams will be here in an hour. I just got the phone call. You'll be staying at the Capitol overnight and returning in the morning."

Peeta and I separate and return to our homes for a last hour of peace and quiet before the imminent chaos that is the arrival of my prep team. However, I don't get to enjoy it- I lay down for a nap and am awoken what seems like a second later by Venia, Octavia, and Flavius.

Thankfully, like before the photo shoot, the prep is not quite as extensive as before the Games. I haven't suffered any major injuries since the last time they visited, and the appearance is only going to be for an evening, so once again shaving is the chosen method of hair removal on my legs, which is fine by me. After a traditional soaking in the tub of unidentified solutions, the excess hair on my eyebrows is plucked and I am once again presented to Cinna.

Cinna, as thoughtful as ever, doesn't have any major reaction of excitement when he enters- no smiling congratulations on the wedding, no happy to see me wave- he looks somber, simply saying, "So….your sister….I'll make her look unforgettable, Katniss."

His words immediately make me tear up. I can't avoid it, and lean forward to hug him, fully crying now, tears falling from my eyes to his shirt. He holds me until they finally subside.

"Thanks, Cinna," I whisper. I must not dwell on this. I shift my focus to this evening. I cough, clear my throat, wipe my eyes. "So what's in store for tonight?"

"You and Peeta are going to be participating in a number of pre-wedding activities," he replies. "The Capitol wants to film you guys doing various things to prepare for your upcoming ceremony," he explains. "You know, picking out hors d' oeuvres, deciding on a band, that kind of thing. It will be another mandatory viewing shown by the Capitol. They're also planning to reveal the top three picks for your wedding dress that everyone voted on."

I groan. Besides the fact that this is distracting me from training Prim, and that it is for an event that despite my positive relationship with Peeta right now I still have mixed feelings about, I could completely care less about this type of superficial Capitol stuff. The weddings in District 12 are nothing like Cinna is describing.

But I can think of worse things to do for the Capitol- like playing in their Games. So I nod, and let Cinna give me a final inspection, though he waits to dress me until after we've been flown into the Capitol and are comfortable inside the Remake Center. He dresses me a modest orange gown, complete with subtle shimmering red and maroon glitter fiery details. It reminds me a bit of my interview dress last year, but less dramatic, darker, more muted- like a fire burning out instead of starting. It's gorgeous.

Caesar Flickerman is seated on the stage outside of the Training Center, once again with the loveseat positioned next to him. Peeta and I enter from opposite sides of the room, embracing comfortably in the middle. Things feel more natural than they have in quite a while, thanks to the fact that we are sharing each other's beds half the time. He gives me a passionate kiss, which we aren't used to sharing, but feels nice regardless. A few moments later, Caesar is signaling for us to break it up.

We position ourselves in the loveseat, I snuggle up in Peeta's lap, and immediately the production is underway. Caesar asks how the wedding planning is going. I stay silent while Peeta feeds Caesar a load of pure BS about us picking colors and trying to decide on a theme- when in reality neither of us has done a thing to prepare for it- we were concentrating too hard on trying to save our siblings' lives in preparation for the Quell to give it any thought at all. But the audience eats it up, and Caesar seems to buy it, telling us that the Capitol is here to help, with everything, but first with the food selection. And then all of a sudden things start appearing on the stage.

Tables appear with dish after dish for us to sample for what will be featured for the guests at the Capitol-wide reception following our wedding ceremony (though I have no doubt that they will serve nearly everything under the sun, similar to the Capitol party following the Victory Tour). The first table is filled with various beverages. I don't care how strange it is- I choose the orange juice and hot chocolate. Peeta agrees, but also adds that we should probably have something flammable there for Haymitch, and the audience bellows in laughter. We eventually choose wine as well, even though I don't particularly like it, because it seems like that is what adults are supposed to drink at weddings. The food comes out next- specifically, all of the best things I remember eating at the Capitol. I make a note to only have a small taste of everything, but there's entirely too much to choose from. For the hors d' oeuvres we eventually decide on that delicious creamy pumpkin soup and roasted chicken with orange sauce. Entrees come out next, and we select- what else?- the lamb stew with dried plums over wild rice. Despite knowing immediately what we want, Caesar gestures to the rest of the dishes, insisting that we try them all.

Tiny stemmed wineglasses appear with the massive table of desserts, including rich pies and tortes, cakes, trifles, mousses, and pastries. For a second I cannot wipe the horrified expression off of my face. The Capitol clearly wants us to excuse ourselves for a moment, drink the fluid that will make us throw up the food we just consumed, and continue our sampling (or vice versa if we weren't already stuffed). I freeze, unable to eat another bite, and refusing to imbibe the fluid and participate in a practice that I absolutely abhor.

Peeta catches my expression, and clears his throat. For a second, I think that he is getting ready to play along and excuse himself, and I fill with disgust at the possibility. But when he speaks up, he catches me completely by surprise.

"Caesar, these desserts look absolutely delectable," he begins.

"Of course, young man, of course!" Caesar bellows. "Dig in!"

"As good as these look, I'm afraid that we won't be selecting any of these dishes," Peeta says.

"Well, why ever not?" Caesar asks, befuddled.

"Because," says Peeta, "I want to make the dessert myself. While there are some amazing pastries on here, what I don't see is a goat cheese and apple tart. We had something like it in the arena last year, and those are one of my specialties at the bakery."

"Well, that's a good start," Caesar says. "But you'll want more than one dessert, of course."

"Of course, Caesar. But I also plan to make and frost our wedding cake. I have special flavors and a design in mind," Peeta glances at me. "And….well, there's also a sort of sweet bread I make at the bakery that I think Katniss would like, with raisins and nuts," he looks over at me again, and my mouth is hanging wide open. "I'd like to bake that. Watch out, though," he continues jokingly, "I have a tendency to burn it."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N:  
Thanks to those who have reviewed so far! It's a definite motivator :)

Chapter 8:

My mouth is still open. Words can't describe how touched I feel by Peeta's gesture. I'm not sure if this is something that he wanted to do anyway, or if he came up with it on the fly simply so that we could avoid drinking that vile fluid, but either way, I am in shock at his thoughtfulness. I am having one of those moments where I think that I could never in a million years do better than marrying Peeta; that I in fact am completely unworthy of him. But a moment later somehow the thought of Gale having to watch this mandatory viewing on TV also occurs to me, and I feel sickened with guilt. However, It pulls me out of my stupor long enough to realize that I need to start paying attention.

It is a good thing I do because Caesar immediately asks for my input. "And what do you think about Peeta's dessert ideas, dear?"

I look directly at Peeta when I say this. He must know how he made me feel. "They're just like him- thoughtful and amazing," I say. I get a little choked up mid-sentence. I'm not sure the audience understands the bread reference- we only mentioned it in passing in the arena, although maybe they picked it up, who knows- but they can hear the emotion and sincerity in my voice. They go berserk with applause.

The dessert table is quickly taken away and Peeta and Caesar engage in small talk while the next round of items are prepared, then presented. Thankfully, the food portion of the evening is over and I can digest while making the next batch of decisions. Though I now regret not consuming more alcohol in the beginning because what I have to pick from now- wedding accessories- is completely mind-numbing and the wine buzz would have made it a little more fun.

Stationary for invitations (and why there are printed invitations is beyond me- it's not like Peeta or I will be handing them out, and the entirety of Panem will be watching anyway): ivory with embossed gold swirl on the left side, ivory with embossed gold swirl on the right side, ivory with embossed silver swirl on the left side- the boring choices go on and on. We have to pick our favorites of a wide selection of cake toppers. Toasting glasses. Guestbooks. Peeta, who as a person is significantly more creative than me, has fairly strong opinions but insists that I make the final selection. We quickly work out a system- he narrows it down to two or three choices that he prefers, then I choose in less than a second, with the guise that I know exactly what I want, but in reality not giving it a single iota of thought and pointing to items randomly.

After an hour, we finally start to make some headway. I am wondering if our broadcast is being edited because I can't for the life of me fathom anyone other than maybe a few people at the Capitol being interested in watching it. We pick the band. We select all of the china and silverware for the place settings at the reception. Time cannot be going any more slowly.

There are several things that we are told are being selected for us. Caesar says it in a way that clearly indicates that we should be grateful that these things are being provided and that we'll have fewer decisions to make, but I know better. That the florist has been selected and has been given an unlimited budget loosely translates to: we are doing the entire thing in a ton of President Snow's bloody and intense-smelling white roses. Obviously we will be getting married at the Capitol, which I would have to say is dead last on my list for choices of venue. And we don't have any say in a getaway car- probably because we won't be allowed to get away.

We are also told that the Capitol will be making an extensive guest list, and to submit any additional requests in writing to President Snow. This likely means that next to no one from District 12 will be invited. And even though Gale is now considered my cousin, I would bet a million dollars that, even after submitting a request, I won't see him there. Though truthfully that thought leaves me somewhat relieved. I try to picture the situation reversed, and can't.

After what seems like forever, the discussion finally seems to turn to something that I would actually like to talk about- the wedding party. Not because I care about who will be holding my bouquet or making the toast, but because I see this as an important opportunity to express to Caesar and President Snow just how integral Prim and Paavo to our wedding, so that they might gain favor in the Capitol, earn some potential sponsorships- Prim especially. At this point I am well aware that Prim is not likely to get a very high score in training, so I have to fight for her sponsorship in any way that I can- it's my job now.

As of now, Peeta and I have not been made aware of the order of events, where exactly our wedding will fall in the scope of the Quell. If the wedding is held before the Games begin, like we're hoping, then perhaps Prim and Paavo will be able to gain sponsorships simply for being more well-known. I would be willing to give them both an inordinate amount of maid-of-honor / best man responsibility if it meant that they would each get more camera time, a better chance to look good in front of the sponsors, anything that would give them a greater connection to the people watching. Prim could even play up her interview with the "always a bridesmaid, never a bride," approach- it would certainly be heart-wrenching to see the younger sister of a victor go into the Games so soon after witnessing her older sister get married- and I would guess that the approach could gain some sympathy. While sponsors aren't typically swayed to play on sympathy for a tribute's misfortunes in the arena, perhaps outside of the arena might be different.

If the wedding is to be set for after the games, it is my duty to try to make the Capitol see how Prim and Paavo are both essential for Peeta and I to be able to celebrate our special day. I need to communicate that the wedding simply won't be acceptable without them.

"So, Katniss," Caesar says to me, "have you given any thought to who your bridal party will be?"

I think about this one for a second, but I'm not close with a lot of females, so there aren't a whole lot of options. "Well," I begin slowly, "I definitely would like my mother to walk me down the aisle." In lieu of my Dad, my mom is the only person that makes sense. While she wasn't always the mother she could have been, no one else was either. "And, I don't need any bridesmaids, but I would definitely like Prim to be my maid-of-honor. I love her more than anything." I reiterate what I said that day in the interviews. Besides being true, it seemed that it was something that people at the Capitol liked about me. Maybe the same will hold true for Prim.

"Hmmmm, interesting," Caesar says, in a way that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, as though he isn't sure how to respond, which is very unlike him. He quickly moves on. "And, Peeta," he continues, "Have you considered who you would like to be your groomsman? Your best man?"

"Sure, Caesar," Peeta replies, smiling with ease. "Well, I think that we both owe a lot of thanks to good 'ol Haymitch, so if he would be willing, I'd want him as a groomsman. The best man decision is a tough one, but I would of course pick one of my brothers. Probably Paavo, since we've gotten really close lately," he clearly means close in proximity and not close emotionally since I have barely seen them speak directly to one another, but thankfully it's a technicality that's not easily distinguished from the audience's point of view. "Though, I would certainly consider Paca to be best man as well. And, I'd also like the opportunity to ask one other individual to be a groomsman….Cinna."

Cinna. My eyes snap to Peeta, and I feel that same rush of emotion towards him all over again. Only he knows how much having Cinna there would mean to me. Since I'm so conflicted about Gale, Cinna would be the next best thing- and he is someone that could stand by me and be happy for me marrying Peeta, unlike Gale.

But I don't have time to dwell on this. Caesar opens his mouth again. "Oh, yes, Cinna," he says, still clearly a little anxious, which is unnerving. He has a tiny feed into his ear from the Capitol, and it looks as though he is listening intensely for a moment, after which he nods, almost imperceptibly.

"Katniss, Peeta, I'm sorry to disappoint you two, but I'm afraid that your requests for your wedding party are going to be impossible to accommodate," he begins sympathetically, still clearly listening to the feed. "I've just been asked to make an announcement. Your wedding date has been set. And it will be the day that the victor of the Quarter Quell is announced. So even if by chance one of them were to survive and win the Quell, they certainly won't be up to the task." His face is masked with concern.

For a moment, I am stunned. I am instantly sure that this was done purposefully by the Capitol, to rob my sister and me of the opportunity to be together on a day, that while, admittedly, staged, will still be one of the more eventful days of my life. Then, my anger at the Capitol washes over me like a tsunami, and I want more than anything to defy them again, scream injustice onscreen in front of all of Panem, but I don't. Because yet another emotion takes over- fear. I am afraid because it isn't my life at stake anymore, and when I think of Prim, and the possibility of her losing her life because of my failures, or for any reason at all, I am devastated. Cumulatively, I do the only thing that my conflicting emotions will agree upon- I burst into tears.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

I have cried in front of the cameras before. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang good-bye to Rue, for example. But I have never cried like this in front of all of Panem: face a blotchy mess of tears, hysterical sobbing, unable to catch my breath, etc. It is a completely involuntary reaction to the news. Unfortunately, it is also horrifically embarrassing, and after the first 10-15 seconds where the initial dam burst, I realize that mortification is just as applicable as any other emotion I am experiencing. I manage to mouth '_Sorry'_ to Caesar, who hands me several tissues from his pocket, which I accept gratefully and use to dab my smeared eyemakeup.

Several seconds later, I feel like I am starting to approach my normal self, but now yet another emotion takes hold: dread at the outburst I had just displayed. I couldn't help it, but could I have inadvertently sabotaged things by being so vulnerable, so girly? Should I have been tougher? Or was this the right move, should I continue to play it up, try to draw out the crowd's sympathies? I am utterly confused. I guess that brings me almost full circle with how I'm feeling.

I finish wiping my eyes, take a few more deep breaths. Meanwhile, Caesar and Peeta are silent, looking at me sympathetically. Peeta puts his hand on my back and gently rubs it. I finally feel able to speak up without breaking down again. "I'm sorry," I apologize, though my voice comes out in a ragged whisper. "I, um, know that it will be a beautiful day, no matter what." One last tear rolls down my cheek. To myself I sound thoughtless, to even imply that I could enjoy my wedding day without Prim, especially if her life is taken from me merely a few days beforehand. But I am thinking about Prim the entire time.

"Yes, it will," Caesar agrees somberly before his voice becomes natural again. "Here, here!" The audience bursts into thunderous applause. He senses that it's time to move on. "And shall we see the final three beautiful dresses that she could be wearing that beautiful day, folks?" He puts his arm out and gives it a little wave, gesturing for Cinna to come on stage. "Let's all welcome Cinna, Katniss' stylist!"

Cinna steps up and makes his way to another chair that had appeared for his interview with Caesar. As he approaches us on stage, he looks pained and subtly mouths an '_I'm so sorry_' to us. But before he turns to the chair, he gives Peeta and me a little nod, and I know that he has just agreed to be our groomsman. My heart soars for Cinna.

Cinna unveils the top choices to squeals from the audience and he and Caesar begin a dialogue about the final three dresses- the long sleeves with the pearls, the creamy lace dress, and the ivory satin number. But I tune out. I just can't wait for this to be over. After what seems like about a million years, it finally is. The dresses were the last component of the evening. The audience gives us a standing ovation as we leave the stage.

Peeta follows me as I walk off the stage and we immediately look for Haymitch and Effie, wanting to know how the star-crossed lovers from District 12 came off to the cameras, for the sake of their siblings in the Quell. I see Haymitch in a corner; apparently he was flown in a little later to make an appearance in the audience, leaving Prim and Paavo to watch old Hunger Games tapes together. He is drinking heavily, though I've learned from firsthand experience that alcohol consumption is no indicator of how well we did. He doesn't see us at first, but when he does gives us a nod of approval and downs the rest of his flask.

"Good job, sweetheart," his voice is raspy. He hastily adds, "You, too, Peeta."

The tension in my muscles releases, and I feel myself immediately start to relax a bit. I give Haymitch a hug, pulling him close so that I can ask him what I don't want others to know. "Really?" I ask quietly. "I didn't mess things up?"

"No, I would venture to say that you improved them," he whispers in response. "You're a tough girl; everyone knows that from your time in the arena. You don't cry at just anything. Your reaction solidified to the audience the intense bond you have with your sister, but in a way that makes the Capitol look far worse- because now they are the bad ones trying to separate you on your wedding day. But can the Capitol really blame you? It was obvious that you were unscripted. Frankly, I think it was a pretty dumb move on the Capitol's part. In fact, I wouldn't be all that surprised if they changed your wedding date."

"We'll see, I guess," I reply and fake a laugh as I pull back. "Though there's no point in stressing about it right now." The last few hours have completely drained me emotionally. "I'm ready to go up to bed." I look at Peeta. "You coming?"

I don't have to ask Peeta twice- he follows me up to the 12th floor of the part of the Training Center tower that houses the tributes- I assume we are staying where we did for the Games. We are, but we don't stay there very long, only to change into comfortable clothes- we are both too far away from sleep. We've gone through too much today. An unspoken arrangement, we head up to the rooftop where we can talk.

"So what did you think of everything that happened today?" I whisper to Peeta. There was a reason that we didn't talk to each other after we got offstage, in the presence of Haymitch and Effie and people from the Capitol. It was so much better to talk like this. Sitting Indian-style in the garden. No one to hear us, nothing but wind chimes to distract us. He leans in close to reply.

"I can't believe that they would arrange the wedding date to coincide with the end of the Quell like that," he said. "It was so cruel, so deliberate."

I nod my head in agreement. But I am cried out from earlier; I can't get emotional right now. "Yeah, it was," I say matter-of-factly.

Peeta continues. "But regardless of what you think, I think that you responded perfectly. The Capitol never would have pegged you to react emotionally like that- I know I've never seen you that way before. That makes it all the more effective. I bet sponsors will be lining up around the block for Prim now. I know if I were a sponsor I would."

There goes Peeta, saying the right thing again. I manage a smile. "You might be a little biased. But thank you. And….thank you for everything tonight. Cinna. Keeping us from having to drink that awful stuff in those wine glasses. The cake. And the bread….," I am wrong, I am feeling emotional again. My eyes start to well up with tears. I don't know why I am feeling this way, why the ultra-expressive side of me has taken over this evening when she has hidden herself for seventeen years, but the tears in my eyes overflow and slip down my cheeks.

Peeta leans closer and gently kisses my face where my tears had fallen. "Katniss…." He begins, but his throat catches for a second, and he doesn't say anything else. We lock eyes for a moment, faces still a mere inch apart. He reaches his hand up to stroke my hair. And then he leans in ever-so-slightly and softly presses his lips to mine.

The kiss lasts just a few moments, but feels completely different than any other one that we've ever shared. Because, for once, it wasn't in front of the cameras, for the audience, or to please the Capitol- this one was just for us.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Peeta and I are sleeping comfortably in each other's arms when Effie Trinket raps loudly on the door of my room, telling us that I am in for a "big, big, morning," before heading back to District 12. President Snow wants to see me. She clearly hasn't gathered the fact that I am not alone.

I sigh. Somehow, I had a feeling that a visit to President Snow was going to be on the agenda after my reaction last night. Peeta quickly gathers himself, wishes me good luck with my meeting, tells me he'll see me on the train, and gives me a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek. I shower and dress, and then head down to the lobby where two Peacekeepers wait to escort me outside.

They don't have to take me all the way to President Snow's office; instead I am escorted to the gardens, where President Snow is tending to his roses. One rose in and of itself gives off a pretty potent smell, but here, in being surrounded by them, even breathing normally makes me feel as though I am going to suffocate from the stench. I immediately open my mouth in order to breathe through it instead; as I inhale, however, whatever chemicals are in those roses seem to enter my lungs faster- and I feel woozy, like I am about to pass out. I close my mouth again.

President Snow addresses me. He gets right to the point. "Good morning, Miss Everdeen. I brought you here so that you might see where we are growing the flowers that will be used for your wedding ceremony." He gestures around him.

I fight to not roll my eyes. _No surprise there._

He continues. "But there is one additional thing that I wish to announce to you. After I say it you may go, and I won't require your or Mr. Mellark's attendance in the Capitol again until the opening ceremonies."

I sigh in relief that Peeta and I will not be required to participate in any more pompous wedding-preparation events at the Capitol, at least not until we arrive for the Quell. Last night's was pure torture. "Thank you," I say simply. I then look at President Snow expectantly.

"In light of last night's reaction by the audience to your announced wedding date, I've decided to consider postponing your event by twenty-four hours," he says, "so that if either of the District 12 tributes wins the Quell, they will have adequate time to prepare for and attend your wedding."

Involuntarily, the side of my mouth creeps upward, and I fight to suppress a grin. But upon seeing my face, President Snow quickly adds, "It's not definite, Katniss, and this is only under the assumption that one of them win, of course."

The look in President Snow's eyes at that moment makes it clear to me that he fully intends to make sure that the above scenario doesn't happen. Seeing the deer-in-headlights look in my eyes prompts him to flash me a plastic-y grin of his own. Suddenly I don't feel like smiling anymore.

With that, he turns away, and the Peacekeepers guide me directly where the Capitol train is to take Peeta, Haymitch, and I home. They are both already there, anxious to hear about how my meeting went, and I relay to them what President Snow told me, though it doesn't take long. In response, Peeta and Haymitch look, for the first time in quite a while, dejected. How on Earth are we going to counteract what President Snow is planning to set into motion? We fall into an anxious silence. I don't know about the other two, but I personally need the time on the train to mentally prepare myself for what I am about to face at home.

Our siblings are waiting with less than a month of training left before the Quell. From a completely objective standpoint, they are two tributes who are at best pretty good, but are probably more accurately considered mediocre in their preparation, especially compared to the Careers. The cards were stacked against them before, but with this recent announcement from President, it is clear that they will be early targets for the Careers, and possibly the arena itself.

I reassess Prim's strengths and weaknesses so far. The experience she has watching and helping my mother heal our unhealthy district is clearly Prim's biggest asset; her medicinal and apothecary skills are top-notch. She will do well to heal any members of her alliance that happen to get hurt in order to gain their favor. To that end, her plant knowledge is also very impressive. She's seen all of the plants that my mother uses and the ones I've brought home from the wild which have been transformed into fine powders and potions for the apothecary, not to mention everything that we've eaten over the years, and she has an excellent memory. Hopefully she can visualize them well enough from what she already knows as well as the book I'm writing with Peeta to be able to recognize them if they are growing in the arena.

Aside from that, after the last couple of months of training, her camouflaging skills are consistently pretty good, she is quick at starting fires, she can set basic snares, and she's in shape. She's fast- she could probably outsprint most of the other tributes, and she's put on a little bit of muscle tone as well. I am convinced she could survive the elements to a degree- as long as the plants were edible and she could snare an occasional animal. But my heart skips a beat or two when I realize that's essentially it- thinking of her in combat with other tributes makes me cringe with fear. All of the effort spent in archery training was for naught- I hope that at the moment she's faring better with knives from the Fish Man- but I somehow doubt it. While the exercise has made her stronger, strong enough to throw a knife or other small weapon a good distance with a fair amount of speed- her aim is pathetic, and has shown no sign of improvement. And though she's fast, she can't outrun people forever- so I am scared even of her ability to evade. Thinking about it makes me so nervous that I can't focus on it for too long.

My mind wanders. I think about last night, of all of the ridiculous wedding stuff that Peeta and I were forced to select, so close to the Games. Was it to purposefully distract us? I think about the intense discussion of the plusses and minuses of the three frilly dresses- when in my opinion they are all equally unlike me. I think about the questions we received about the wedding party, Peeta's perfect way with words, how he chose Cinna as our groomsmen. I think about the obligation of Peeta to choose his brothers, who he doesn't even get along with, when he probably could have picked from a number of our friends at school- he was always so popular. I think of how I could think of next to no one other than my immediate family to be in the bridal party. My mother. Prim. I suppose if I could have a best man, I could pick Gale- if he wasn't so against me marrying Peeta. I guess I could have picked Rue as well, if she were still alive.

I think about Rue. Visiting her family in District 11. I think again about singing to her as she died, of surrounding her with flowers. The mockingjay tune that she taught me. I think about her cleverness, how she pointed out the tracker jacker nest. I smile as I think about how she jumped from tree to tree, light as a feather. I think about how much she reminded me of Prim.

I feel a rush of excitement as my mind finally connects the dots that have been laid out before me for quite some time. Rue reminded me of Prim! Prim of Rue! Rue had the skills mixed with a strategy that got her far in the Games.

I realize that I am going to have to ask Haymitch and Peeta to train Prim separately. Because I'm going to have to teach her to climb trees.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

I keep silent throughout the rest of the train ride back to District 12. But as soon as we arrive, I feel a newfound sense of excitement. Well, maybe not excitement, but I at least feel that Prim and I will be able to use this last month together productively, giving me less of a feeling of helplessness. Peeta and I had the odds stacked against us last year, too, and look where we ended up. I refuse to let President Snow's announcement keep me feeling discouraged.

Peeta, Haymitch, and I arrive late and all retire to our own houses to crash, but early the next morning, I bring Prim over to Peeta's place, and while we're exercising I have a renewed vigor that Peeta clearly doesn't get. While I'm enthusiastically doing jumping jacks, he sneaks me several questioning looks. But I don't say anything until Haymitch arrives just before lunchtime. I signal that I need to speak with both of them alone.

We leave Prim and Paavo to their camouflaging and conference in Peeta's backyard. With blasting music and hushed voices, of course.

"Look," I begin, "we need to approach things differently this last month, become more effective at training, because of what Snow said, and since we're running out of time. We need to focus on training the tributes in areas where we will see significant improvement."

Haymitch and Peeta nod in agreement, but clearly have no idea how to accomplish this. I continue. "So basically, I think that we should take Prim off of the knifework training," -she had admitted to me last night that she could throw a knife quite well as long as where it landed didn't matter-, "so that Fish Man can devote more time to teaching Paavo. And I want Prim to come with me while they're training, because I want to teach her how to climb trees. And we're just going to have to go into the woods outside our District boundary." The Victor's Village had no climbable trees to speak of.

Haymitch and Peeta nod their assent.

"Just be careful, sweetheart," Haymitch says, "because you can't afford to get trapped outside the District again. So stick with the trees on our side of the woods or just on the other side of the fence- don't get pulled in. But otherwise, I like your plan. Fish Man will take over for you in the evenings to train Paavo from here on out. Also, since we were all only gone for a day and a half, we need to show more Hunger Games videos. They can watch those during my portion of the training."

_Of course they can, Haymitch_. I roll my eyes. Haymitch had managed to make it sound self-sacrificing, when he was getting off easy. But now we had a fairly set, and rigorous, training schedule.

Watching the Hunger Games videos for a couple of hours during lunch does give us things to discuss a little later that afternoon, and quickly 4 p.m. approaches. Fish Man shows up, looking ragged, to help train Paavo, who is starting to master the knifework quickly with his new mentor. I take Prim aside and we walk toward the Seam.

I am anxious to have Prim alone during training. I want to have the time to give her strategies that only she can use. While I've spent a lot of time with her after training, it hasn't been a good time to bark additional orders at her. Later in the evenings mother is around as well, and most of our time is spent consoling Prim, talking about happy memories, and giving her space when she asks for it. But here, heading towards the woods, is my time with her. To tell her whatever I think she needs to hear to help her survive.

I had already told her about Rue, but I tell Prim about the revelation I had on the train coming home from the Capitol- and how I thought a good approach for Prim would be to model some of the things that Rue did. If Prim could learn to climb trees fast enough to escape from predators- whether they are human or not- than she'll increase her odds of surviving by a substantial amount. And with her light weight, she is at a massive advantage- so this could be something that sets her apart from the other tributes.

We don't see a lot of good trees on our side of the district, so after making sure that the fence is still not electrified, we scramble through and find a thick of trees with appropriate-sized branches. I climb one as high as I am capable while Prim watches, showing her how I maneuver around the branches, how I decide which path to take. I then begin my descent and climb down, jumping on the ground at the end with a flourish. "See? It's not that hard."

Prim begins to climb. She's a natural at pulling herself up the base, and climbing itself isn't all that difficult anyway, if you're strong enough. It's when she gets closer to the top, where the branches thin out, where I want to see how she does. When she reaches the branches where she isn't sure what will support her weight, where she needs to judge whether a branch will be too thin, she's slow and tentative, but does exceptionally well, even though I know that she's afraid. And by that time, because of her age and slight build, she's soaring 20 feet above where I could go. My heart leaps. _She will be able to escape._

I have her climb down. First, I give her a couple of tips for getting up the base of the tree faster, then start timing her as I watch her do it again and again. For an hour. My relief keeps blossoming. She has already improved tremendously, cutting her 30 foot ascent time in half, and this is only the first day. I make a mental note that we need to do this training exercise every day until the Quell.

Then, as I watch her climb to the very top, I give her more tips how to understand which path to take- but it's a lot of trial and error. Every time she makes a misjudgment, I have her climb down and start over. Prim tries again. And again. Each time taking a different route so that she can learn the branches a little better. When she masters one tree, I have her move on to the next. Every half hour or so, I let her rest for a couple of minutes. In the last one of those breaks, I feel the need to speak up.

"Prim, I want to apologize for the other night," I begin, keeping my emotions in check, assuring myself that my outburst was an aberration.

"For what?" she asks dubiously.

"When I was on TV, after Caesar told everyone that the wedding date had been set, and after I cried, what I said was just…I said what I had to say, but I didn't mean it, you know? There is no way that day would be beautiful without you."

Prim nods in understanding. "That's okay. You said what you had to say. I just can't believe you cried like that! Did the Capitol have anything to say about it?"

She's clever, that Prim. And she knows me too well. I can't lie to her.

"Yes, I saw President Snow, and he said that he would consider moving the wedding back a day, so that if one of you wins you can be there."

Prim understands the seriousness of what I just said. The thought of an alliance sounds great, but who knows if it will really come to fruition. She has to learn to survive on her own. She takes on a serious tone. "I guess I'd better learn to climb these trees better." She gets off the forest floor signaling the end of our little break.

Prim starts climbing up the base again with even greater determination. She reaches the top of the heavier branches in record time and begins exploring several thin branches nearby. Unfortunately, I think our conversation has temporarily made her careless. I don't think she takes the time to realize that none of the nearby branches will support her. But before I can tell her this, she makes the step, shifting her weight- and the tiny branch snaps in half, sending an off-balance Prim airborne.

"Prim!" I shout up to her, just as she lets out a blood-curdling scream.

She is falling, and can't control herself through the air. She is too far from the base to catch any branches that will support her weight, and the little branches grab her but quickly let go, especially after she accelerates through her fall.

I hear a rustling nearby, but I am supremely focused on putting myself in the best possible position to catch her. I am not far away, but I shift slightly until I am directly under her. Even as I stand there ready to brace her fall, however, I am terrified. Even though some of the smaller branches appear to be slowing her fall to a degree, she will crash into me with great force, and I'm not all that much bigger or heavier than she is. Nevertheless, I am well positioned, and I keep my feet firmly planted, arms outstretched, ready to take the brunt of her impact. I can't bear it. I close my eyes.

The next couple of seconds happen in a blur. Sounds get louder. I feel something push into me, knocking me completely off balance, and I crash onto the ground. But I don't feel Prim crash on top of me; don't feel anything else at all. Prim's screaming abruptly stops, but I don't hear a sickening thud.

When I open my eyes, I see that someone else has caught Prim, standing a few feet away where I was just a moment ago. Gale.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Appearing out of nowhere, he stands there calmly, like a knight in shining armor, holding the damsel-in-distress Prim as though she were as light as a rag doll. Asking her if she is all right, Prim doesn't respond- it looks as though she has fainted due to all of the commotion. Gale gently sits down and sets Prim onto the ground, but keeps her head resting on his crossed calves. After a couple of seconds, she comes to, and Gale and I immediately see if she's okay. Prim nods but says she needs to lie there a little while longer and rest. We are skeptical but when we realize that she's going to stay conscious, I sit down as well and Gale and I start to talk.

"What in the world are you doing here?" I mean to talk in a normal tone of voice but the words escape my lips as a whisper.

"Um, saving your little sister, Catnip," he replies simply. "And you'd better be thankful, too, because she hurt the hell out of my arms." I realize now why he had to set her down, so he could get the weight off of them. "I was hunting, and with how loud you girls were being, you were scaring away all of the game. So I figured I would come over to tell you two to shut up." He grins as he says it. He's obviously happy to see us.

I think about how vulnerable Gale looked the last time I saw him. In bed, delirious from the medicine, whipped and beaten, though never broken. He couldn't look more different now. Tough and strong.

"But why are you hunting today?" I whisper. "Aren't you supposed to be in the mines?" I realize it's probably best to keep our conversation quiet. If the Capitol saw us kiss in here so long ago….

"Working there seems to be an on-again, off-again kind of thing," he explains, shrugging. "Right now, I guess it's off-again. We haven't worked in a few days."

Perhaps that explains the necessity of keeping the fence shut off. We sit in silence. "So, how are you guys doing?" he eventually asks. "...Sorry to hear about the Quell."

I'm not sure exactly what he wants to know. "It's going all right, I guess. We're spending a lot of time training Prim and Peeta's brother Paavo. We're making progress."

"Clearly," smirks Gale, in reference to Prim's inexperience in the trees.

"Well, I didn't know that the fence had been de-electrified until recently," I said. "Have you been hunting a lot?"

"Yeah, when I'm not mining," he replies. "I kinda have to. Gotta feed the family, you know. Not all of us are lucky enough to get to stuff ourselves just because there's a wedding coming up," He is clearly referring to the other night's feast that he had to watch on TV. His voice takes on a bitter tone that I'm not sure how to deal with. I can't exactly blame him for feeling the resentment that he does, watching his best friend given the lavish life that he might love if it weren't from the establishment that he hated. And with another guy, on top of all of that. But it's not all my fault. And it's not exactly the life that I want, either.

I just nod in reply; I don't want to say anything to irritate him further. Eventually I change the subject. "So….how is your back doing anyway?"

In reply, Gale twists around and lifts up his shirt for me to see. His back is still as muscular as ever, but grotesque scars cover nearly the entire thing, circling up all the way to the nape of his neck. I can see every slash Gale took from the whip etched clearly, and it takes me back to that awful day. I cringe.

"Not too pretty, huh?" asks Gale.

I shake my head. Given what I witnessed that day, however, it's a miracle that the scars are the only thing you can see now, that he looks perfectly normal until he lifts his shirt. I muster up the courage to tell him so. "I'm just glad you're okay. You could have died. And everything I'm doing, the wedding….it's all for our families, you know." How I feel about Peeta is irrelevant at this point. I don't want to be married yet…if ever.

He nods. "I know, Katniss. But the Rebellion just isn't happening fast enough. And in the meantime I'm watching you with him…." He trails off.

I lean over and carefully whisper in his ear. "The Rebellion is happening faster than you think. I don't know much, but from what I hear, about half the Districts are doing something. We have something in the works for the Quell."

Gale's eyes widen. He goes to ask me for additional details, but I cut him off before he gets the chance.

"And Peeta-" Just saying his name makes me lean back, away from Gale. I try to summarize my complicated feelings for the boy with the bread, but I can't. But I do know that the kiss he and I shared the other night has me thinking differently about him than I ever have before. And I do know that I don't want to share any of this with Gale. I eventually give up and change the subject. "Look, we aren't supposed to be talking out in the open like this. I'm not supposed to be talking with you, period. You need to give things time to unfold. A few months from now, things might be very different. But right now, I need to concentrate on training Prim; Reaping Day is less than a month away. That is all I have time to focus on." My voice hardens defensively. I would gladly exchange my life now for my old one, if that meant I didn't have to worry about my sister like I have the last couple of months. Except for maybe Peeta.

Gale softens, nods sympathetically. I think he realizes for the first time in a while that while my life is superficially better than it was, better than his, I have legitimate worries and fears now just as I did then. Winning the Games didn't make my problems go away- and as hard as his life has been, he's never had to worry about the Games except on Reaping Day- either for him or his family. He clears his throat. "Can, I, um, do anything to help?"

"Well, since we could probably get in big trouble if we're caught associating, I would say that I should tell you no," I reply. "But we'll be here pretty much every evening for the next month, working on climbing trees. And if you happened to show up a night or two to teach Prim some better snares than I can, I wouldn't be mad at you for it."

Gale nods. "Okay. When I'm not working, I'll be here hunting anyway. How about tomorrow?"

I nod, all of a sudden weary and tired. The day has been exhausting, and this conversation is not helping. I check on Prim, lying down, eyes closed, but not breathing heavily in the case of sleep. "Prim?" I say as I nudge her gently.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go home," she replies. "I think I've had enough climbing for one day." She smiles and sits up abruptly. I am waiting for her to feel woozy from the drop in blood pressure, but she's ready to go. She makes her way to her feet, and Gale and I follow her lead.

"Well…..see you tomorrow then, Gale," I say, and Prim and I start off towards the fence.

"It was good to see you girls. Bye, Prim. See you, Catnip." Gale waves and turns back the other way.

After a few steps, I turn around and watch Gale walking away for a moment. I feel sad. Because we will never be what we once were; we will never get those Sundays back. The Capitol has killed it. And by the time we might be in a position for things to be anywhere close to that again, too much will have changed. A lone tear slips down my cheek.

But as I walk towards the Victor's Village, hoping that Prim and Paavo will have their own places there soon, thinking of Haymitch, and of Peeta, I start to feel more and more like I am going home.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

The month passes quickly. Prim and I head over to the woods the next day, and Gale is waiting for us. Thankfully, we skip out on talking about the heavy stuff, and focus on what is most important right now- training Prim. He has a lot of supplies with him and immediately begins to assess what I have taught her about snares. He nods approvingly as she demonstrates to him what she already knows, but then dives in and starts showing her some more advanced techniques.

I am torn between paying attention, spending time with Gale and Prim and trying to learn the snares myself, and getting as far away as possible from the two of them while they train. I am the rebel that is always out in the woods, not Prim. So if the Capitol finds out she is here, surely her punishment won't be as severe as mine, right? But they still haven't electrified the fence, so perhaps that means that they don't really care that we are out here. Or that they are just planning to take it out on Prim in the arena anyway.

I ultimately decide on staying away. Being around Gale makes things too complicated. Things are complicated enough as it is. I use the time as an opportunity to do something that I haven't done very much lately- be by myself. I even bring my bow and arrows a couple of days to hunt while they train.

After a week, Prim has mastered a couple more snares. But despite the time spent learning them, she is reluctant to actually set them up for real- because she feels that she will more likely eat plants in the arena anyway, if she can. We decide that her time would be better used in the trees, so we thank Gale for helping us. He tells us he'll check in with us again before the Reaping. Prim and I practice climbing drills, over and over and over again, and every time she does it I feel a little better. _She's improving. This is worth it._ It is a far cry from watching her botch our archery lessons day after day. I get the sense that Gale might be watching us from afar, but he leaves us be.

As the Reaping nears, our training continues as scheduled, but I spend every night with Prim and our mother. I know that Peeta will understand, and we'll have plenty of time to spend together later, after we leave for the Quell. But for right now, our little family spends every second together that we can. Prim and I talk late into the night sometimes, discussing strategy, talking about Dad, reviewing our plants. During breaks throughout the day, we stuff her with as much good food as much as she can choke down to encourage her to gain a little weight. That is one unique thing about this year's Quell- since every tribute there will be related to a Victor, none of them are likely to be very hungry. I'm sure the Gamemakers will keep this in mind.

On the last day before the Reaping, Prim is in the trees when Gale comes to visit. In the last month, she has developed Rue-like senses, and has harnessed her initial fear into determination, learning to leap from tree to tree quite agilely. I don't feel the need to watch her like a hawk anymore. So when Gale approaches, I leave her alone and I turn to him.

"Catnip," he begins, and engulfs me in a hug. I feel his strong arms, smell the woods in his scent, and immediately feel conflicted. "How are you holding up?" he asks.

"I'm all right," I reply, pulling away. "I guess it's easier to know." I'm thinking of last year's Reaping.

"Yeah, I guess so," he agrees.

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you again for helping Prim," I say. "I'm feeling a lot better about her chances."

Gale raises an eyebrow. "You do? That's good. How do you feel that you would have done with someone like her in the arena last year?"

I chew my lip thoughtfully. But a sigh escapes my mouth anyway. Because I know. I am quiet so that I am certain Prim can't hear me. "I think I probably would have kicked her ass, Gale, if she were just a random girl," I murmur. "She can run fast, but I can hit a moving target with my bow and arrow. Other than running and climbing, she has no way to defend herself, and she still hates the idea of killing anything, even animals for food. But you never know." I brighten a bit. "The girl from District 5 last year, Foxface, made it to the final four without using any weapons. And she was by herself for most of it."

"And Prim won't be?"

Whoops. I had forgotten that I never revealed to Gale the specifics of Prim's alliance. "Well, she and Paavo are going to be partners," I say evasively, hoping I can leave it at that.

Gale raises another eyebrow. "I would be careful about that if I were you- or Prim. I wouldn't trust either of Peeta's brothers as far as I could throw them. Anyone that could get along with their witch of a mother is not worth trusting in my book. And I'm not just saying that because of Peeta, because obviously you trusted him, and you won."

I'm not sure what to make of this. Gale has probably seen Peeta's brothers at the bakery a lot more than I have- he's been trading game longer. But I've spent an awful lot of time with Paavo in the last couple of months. Resentful of Peeta, absolutely, defensive of his mother, of course, but I'm not sure I can really use either of those things against him. Those feelings sometimes come with being in a family. But I do know that I don't want to discuss this with Gale anymore. I tell him that Prim and I should go.

I call Prim down from the trees. Gale tells me to wait, that he didn't mean it, but we need to go anyway- it's getting late, growing dark. The Reaping is at two, and Prim will have a long day. She needs the rest. I tell Gale so; assure him that we're not leaving because of anything he said.

Gale hugs Prim first, and they say goodbye. "But I'm sure I'll see you soon, Prim, right?" he winks at her. "Especially the way you can snare and jump from tree to tree now."

She gives him a broad grin. "Yes, Gale. I'll see you soon." She means it as much as she can hope.

Gale turns to me. I realize that this will be the last time I see Gale before I marry Peeta. I have no idea what to say to him. So I don't say anything, I just let him take me into his arms, engulfing me in a gigantic bear hug. As we're hugging, I feel a little warm dampness on my cheek. Not from me, from _him_. Accompanied by a couple of odd sounds, and some shaking of his chest. I am in utter disbelief.

_Impossible_. Gale can't be crying. I don't believe it; I've never seen him do that in the entire time that I've known him. But it's true. I pull away a bit, so that I can see his face, and his eyes are red and glassy, with a couple of tears having escaped down his cheeks. But he wipes them away and quickly looks down, refusing to meet my eyes, embarrassed. He just whispers, "It should have been us, Catnip."

Then he lets me go, turns around, and is gone without looking back.

* * *

The Reaping Day comes and goes quickly. Prim dresses up. This time, it isn't just nightmares that predict her name being pulled from the reaping ball. She knows exactly what's coming, and is prepared. That beats last year, I suppose.

Peeta and I sit with Haymitch. People file in. The town clock rings. The mayor reads. Peeta and I are added to the list of victors. _Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be _ever_ in your favor, blah, blah, blah. _ Effie looks as out of place as ever in the square as approaches one of the big glass reaping balls. This one has only one slip of paper inside. "Ladies first!" she exclaims, trying to build tension with her tone, as if we don't all already know whose name is inside. She makes a show out of fishing the slip of paper out. Then, she reads, clearly and distinctly: "Primrose Everdeen!"

I experience the strongest ever sensation of déjà vu. But this year, I say nothing. And Prim walks much more confidently to the stage, less naïve, more mature. So thankfully, I don't feel the quite the same degree of anguish. But it's still there.

Effie walks to the other reaping ball. "And now the gentlemen," she says, drawing one of the two slips of paper within it. "Paavo Mellark!"

The only good thing about this was that we didn't have to go through the formality of Paavo having to volunteer for Paca. Saves time.

Effie congratulates the tributes and asks for the audience's applause. For the second year in a row, no one gives it to her. Prim and Paavo are then escorted into the Justice Building by Peacekeepers. We all watch them walk trepidatiously inside until the doors slam shut behind them.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Haymitch, Peeta, and I have the option of staying in the Justice building until Prim and Paavo have said their goodbyes, but we choose instead to go directly to the train station. Peeta and Paavo don't have very much to say to each other, and since I will be seeing so much of Prim over the next week I don't want to take a second away from my mother's goodbye to her. We are given a ride by Peacekeepers, which is a good thing because Haymitch had already been drinking more excessively than usual, a Reaping Day tradition.

We board the train heading to the Capitol and wait there for Paavo and Prim to arrive. An hour or so later, they do, Paavo looking devastated but determined; Prim's face a mess of tears. I just stroke her hair and let her cry, knowing that there probably isn't anything that I can say to make her feel much better. The train zips off and for the rest of today and part of tomorrow we will be trapped within the confines of one the Capitol's most extravagant forms of transportation.

We just sit there, silent. At this point, we have discussed survival tips for every possible scenario we could conceive. Over the last month, we have gone through every single video of the previous Games, critiquing the actions of the tributes, figuring out as a team what we would do differently if presented with similar circumstances. We are talked out- at least until we get a much better idea of what they are most likely to encounter in the arena. At this point, it could be anything.

That said, I continue to worry about Prim. We have given her the tools, I think, for her to defend herself against the Careers, as well as a number of the surprises that the Gamemakers could throw at her. But from experience, what I would have done as an outsider looking in, versus what I ended up doing in the arena when faced with the situations firsthand, did not always match. My biggest worry is that Prim will let her fear and emotions get the best of her. We tried to combat it as much as possible during the training- practicing things over and over again, getting her into a routine- and by the end spending so much time in the woods that I forgot that she used to be afraid of them- but who knows what she'll do when the gong sounds.

When we are told that the dining car has dinner prepared, it is a welcome relief from everyone's stony silence. Entering the car, mouthwatering smells waft all around us. Even being victors, Peeta and I don't eat quite as well as we did this time last year at the Capitol. Not that I would trade it, of course.

We listen to ourselves eat- no one feels like engaging in conversation, and the food is delicious. Like I saw Peeta do last year, I immediately start dipping bread (as well as most anything else I can get my hands on) in my overflowing cup of hot chocolate. Effie occasionally tries to get the conversation ball rolling with a question directed to the group, but everyone ignores her. I don't think Effie quite realizes how much time the five of us had spent together; she is used to get-to-know-you chit-chat like in previous years. We are way beyond that now. Haymitch eventually passes out on his plate, and it takes a minute for everyone to notice. We just make sure he's breathing, shrug, and leave him be.

My mind wanders to Gale. At his words. What they meant. _It should have been us_. Maybe it should have been- but it isn't. For some reason this concept is difficult for me to grapple with. I look at Peeta, my fiancée. _My fiancée_. This is going to be my husband in merely a few weeks. In preparing for the Quell, I have managed to almost completely overlook this fact. But regardless of whether this event is staged by the Capitol, whether it's for the cameras or not, we're still going to stand in front of each other and say vows and words like _'til death do us part_. And I'm quite certain that Peeta will mean every word of his. But will I? At that moment, Peeta catches me looking at him, and gives me a shy little smile. _You could do a lot worse, you know_. The words resonate. _It should have been us_. I'm not sure which ring louder, truer.

The train continues to roll along. After a completely indulgent meal and an equally calorie-laden dessert, Prim excuses herself from the dining car, but I don't want her to be by herself, so I follow her to the next car over. She looks like she is about to cry again.

"Is it your conversation with Mom?" I ask, sitting down beside her and putting my arms around her thin frame. I don't want to pry, but I wonder if anything our mother said to her at their goodbye has added pressure- Prim certainly doesn't need it at this point.

Prim shakes her head no. "I'm just so scared, Katniss." Tears slip over her cheeks. Seeing her this way is devastating. But Prim needs to see me strong; I need to stay strong for her.

I stroke her hair and nod. "I know how it feels."

Prim looks up at me. "I feel so alone. Is there anyone that I'm going to be able to trust in there?"

I look down at her. This is the opportunity for me to say to her something I've needed to say for a long time. I've had plenty of chances to voice what I'm about to, all of those times we were alone in the woods together, but never could bring myself to spit it out, because it will take away some of her hope. But now she's asking me, and I can't lie to her. I think of Paavo, then think of what Gale said, and I know that he's right. I meet her eyes, take a deep breath, shake my head. "No, you can't, not the whole way through. I'm sorry."

She bursts into tears again. I hug her tighter, but remain firm in my conviction. As we are on Capitol property, I choose my words carefully. "Listen, Prim, you are going to need to trust people at first, that's the only way you are going to be able to survive. But later in the Games, when the numbers get cut in half, it will be a different story. And all of those people that you trusted at first- you just won't know anymore. You'll have to watch them. See if they've changed. Find out what their intentions are. Use your best judgment. Maybe you can still trust them. But maybe you can't. You can't assume anything." I wish I didn't have to be this vague. I wish I could trust Haymitch's rumors of an alliance fully. But at this point, I'm not willing to wager Prim's life on anything.

She nods, trying to get a grip on her crying. "Okay," she says.

I feel the need to speak again. "But Prim, you can trust me out here. Because you winning is more important than anything else to me. More important than loyalty to Haymitch or Peeta or Paavo. I will do anything I can to bring you home. Anything." I mean every word. The Capitol cannot take away my sister from me. And I will scream from the rooftops their goodness if it means that she lives. I hate the Capitol with every fiber of my being, but I love my sister more.

Prim visibly relaxes. "Thanks, sis," she says, and gives me a halfhearted smile. But after a moment, it fades, and she looks exhausted, emotionally drained. She doesn't move from my arms.

We look out the train window together in silence, and watch another district pass by the window- Perhaps District 11, as there is nothing but field after field of corn stretching across the landscape. It is sunset, and on the flat horizon I have never seen the sun look bigger and more vibrant as it does right now, lighting up the rest of the sky. Mesmerized, I watch it continue to dip until there is nothing but oranges and pinks and reds, and then later purples and blues and blacks. I hear Prim's breathing become slower and deeper and realize with a quick glance downward that she has fallen asleep in my arms. Not wanting to wake her, I just sit there and stare. In this awkward seated position, and after this conversation, I know that sleep will evade me.

After an hour or so, Peeta comes in to check on us. By this time Prim is snoring, and while he noiselessly gestures that we would be more comfortable in the sleeping car, I silently mouth back to him that we're okay, that I plan to stay here for the night, or at least until Prim wakes up, and that I'll probably see him in the morning. But instead of leaving, Peeta stays with us, sitting down next to me, slipping his arm around my shoulders, gently massaging my neck. I slowly relax my head as he does it to rest it on his shoulder. He softly kisses my forehead and as I feel my eyelids getting heavy, and I am never more grateful that he is there. If there is anyone that the Capitol is going to force me to marry, than at that moment I couldn't be happier that it is him.

We are still positioned that way at daybreak when Effie comes in talking about another 'big, big, big, day'.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

Once I'm awake, I immediately think how awful an idea it was to not do as Peeta said last night- just wake Prim up temporarily and head off to the sleeping car, where we both could sleep comfortably and undisturbed. Instead, I was only able to doze for a couple of hours, and judging by Peeta's face, it was the same for him. I have a gigantic crick in my neck and can temporarily move my head in only one direction. But Prim, using my body and eventually Peeta's for support for most of the night, looks rested. I then realize that it was worth it, that her comfort and security what is most important right now anyway. But it is definitely going to be a long, long, long, day as well as a big, big, big one.

We go back to the dining car for a Capitol breakfast- where I drink a couple of glasses of fresh orange juice before looking at anything else. We've been able to buy it in the last year, but it is still a poor substitute for the Capitol's version. And, of course, I have another large steaming cup of hot chocolate and decide to choke down some coffee as well to help give me a much-needed energy boost- I am half-filled up on liquids before I've had anything to eat. Paavo eats like there is no tomorrow (which unfortunately could very well be true for him); over the past year he has refused to accept a lot of the luxury food items that Peeta has offered to him out of principle. Prim samples a little of everything, focusing more on Capital specialties that beat anything that we can purchase in District 12.

While we're all eating breakfast, the Capitol comes into view through the train windows, and Prim and Paavo immediately run to them to get a better look. Peeta and I sit back, watching Prim and Paavo transfixed on the glass, captivated. Peeta and I exchange brief smiles, like old parents watching their children excited on a family vacation. But looking at the Capitol a little longer brings nothing but intense feelings of hatred towards the surface. Watching Prim look at it also serves to remind me of how the Capitol is using her, as it did me, as a sacrificial lamb. I can only hope that she spites them better than I did.

Paavo and Prim are well-versed in what will happen immediately upon arrival at the Capitol. If they are the same as last year's, than both Prim and Paavo know the names of everyone on their prep teams. Like Haymitch did for us, I have counseled Prim on several occasions to let the prep team work their magic, even if it hurts a little. I just hope to God that Cinna, who must understand how important she is to me by now, takes it easy on her.

Despite knowing what comes next, Prim is anxious as we arrive and meet up with their prep teams. She is now in the hands of Venia, Octavia, and Flavius and will be for the next several hours, and she'll be meeting with Cinna for quite a while after that. I kiss her cheek and assure her that I will find her and wish her luck prior to the opening ceremonies this evening. Together they, along with Paavo and his own prep team, head off to the Remake Center.

Peeta and I, meanwhile, are escorted to the Training Center. In honor of our upcoming wedding, the Capitol has designed a brand-new addition to the twelfth floor of the Training Center tower, where we will all be staying. Peeta and I now have our own suite at the end of the hall. When we open the door, we see a massive foyer with a gigantic sparkling hanging chandelier, in the design of- what else?- flames. The foyer is enormous, and to either side are two nondescript doors, which we are told leads to our individual bedrooms. Next to the doors are two ornate spiral staircases, both winding their way up to a single second floor balcony, where a set of double doors sits centered at the top. Secured to the two doorknobs is a gigantic heart-shaped lock.

"What is all of this?" I ask incredulously to the Peacekeeper who has escorted us here.

"This is for your wedding. Until your wedding night, you will stay in your separate rooms, but at your reception, you will be given the key that unlocks the door to your honeymoon suite," the Peacekeeper replies.

I continue to look at the Peacekeeper as if he has gone completely out of his mind. Why in the world would the Capitol go to all of this trouble for us?

"There will be a segment on this suite aired as part of a second wedding special the night before the Games begin," the Peacekeeper clarifies.

_Oh, so that's why_, I think. Another ridiculous wedding special. TV. It all makes sense now.

The Peacekeeper escorts me to my room, and I have to suppress a laugh. The bed can't be more than three feet across; it is the narrowest one I have ever seen. It is clearly meant to signify that I should be sleeping in this room alone (that, and nearly everything in the room being a Pepto-Bismol pink, making it unmistakably girly). But it is amusing more than anything; if I can sleep on a tree branch in the arena for a week, than I can certainly squeeze in this bed with Prim- or Peeta.

As the Peacekeeper exits our suite, Peeta and I break into laughter. Seeing his own bed, he has obviously just reached the same ridiculous conclusion. The Capitol thinks that this is going to deter us from one of the only human comforts that we have? Coffee ineffective, both of us exhausted from last night, we set out to prove them wrong, right now. We kick off our shoes and slip under the covers of my bed. As close as we've been sleeping, there's even a little room to spare.

We are napping a mere twenty minutes, however, when there is a banging at the door to our suite. Groggily, we open it to find Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna waiting anxiously.

"Cinna!" I say, excited but still sleepy, and I throw my arms around him in a hug.

"Hello, Girl on Fire," he replies softly, gold eyeliner not distracting me from the affection that I see in his eyes.

"So…what's going on?" I inquire to the group. As happy as I am to see Cinna, I look wistfully towards the bedroom, as our napping felt nowhere near complete. Haymitch looks as though he has finally sobered up from the 2nd Annual Get Bombed on Reaping Day event. "Welcome back, Haymitch," I add.

"You two look exhausted," says Effie disapprovingly, and I can tell this affects her unspoken plans. "You need to look your best this evening. I thought we should watch the recap of the reapings this afternoon, since we missed them last night," she looks pointedly at me, "but after looking at the two of you, let's just postpone that until tonight after the opening ceremonies are over- that way Prim and Paavo can see them as well. Get your rest." She coughs. "But before you do, Cinna requested to speak with you." She turns back down the hallway, gesturing for Haymitch to come with her.

"I just wanted to tell you that you will be on your own with the tributes before the ceremonies- and really in general," he says gruffly. "Since you will be around to advise the tributes- which I trust you to do well, since you have a vested interest in them- I will be able to put that time into trying to get them more sponsors."

Peeta and I nod. It's a good plan. Haymitch scurries down the hall, as well as he _can_ scurry, after Effie.

I gesture for Cinna to come in, and Peeta thankfully takes the hint and heads to his little bedroom, closing the door. The foyer contains a loveseat, and Cinna and I sit down, turning slightly inward so that we are facing each other.

"Katniss, I just wanted to run a few things by you in regards to my final designs for Prim. First of all, I wanted to let you know that unlike last year, Prim and Paavo are going to have pretty different looks; they won't be united the way that you and Peeta were."

I look at him, puzzled.

He quickly explains. "The move is partially strategic. I've been speaking with Haymitch. Not to mention, we're not doing the star-crossed lovers angle, and Prim and Paavo are about as different-looking as you can get. He's what, 6'2"? All muscle? 18? And she's barely a teenager, and still looks like a little girl. It just won't work. Now, you and Peeta will still have flame-inspired garments, but they will be a lot more muted than last year, since you won't be in the Games. But because Prim doesn't have quite the same fiery spirit that you do, I didn't design a fire theme for her. I did take the liberty, however, since I had the time and resources, to design a couple of potential looks for her opening ceremonies and interview. I was hoping that you could help me narrow them down."

I don't question him. I nod, and say simply, "I trust you, Cinna."

He smiles. "I know you do. But let me ask you this. How do you want the world to see your sister?"

I find myself getting emotional again. _Stop it, Katniss!_ If Cinna were asking this question about me I would be solid as a rock- but my sister is my soft spot. "I, um, guess I would want the world to see her like I do- beautiful and sensitive and vulnerable," I say, fighting tears. "Before all of this started, back when things were more normal- there was so much dullness back in District 12, in my life. She was the bright spot that I looked forward to most each day." I pause. "Could you make her look like that? In a way that will get her sponsors?"

"Yes, I think so," Cinna says, reassuringly patting my hand. "Don't worry, Katniss, I think I have just the thing."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N:  
Life getting busier, guys. Daily updates might not be the norm anymore. But I appreciate your interest and love to hear your feedback :)

Chapter 16:

After Cinna leaves, I knock on Peeta's door, but with no answer. Sneaking a peek into his bedroom, identical in size, furniture mirrored, and 'boy' colors- blue and black, I smile at the strangeness of it all. Peeta is passed out on the bed, sprawled out over the whole thing, sleeping peacefully. _Drat_, I think- he has beaten me to it. Not wanting to nap alone, I think I can sneak in the bed next to him without waking him up. But by the way that he is positioned, this ends up being impossible, as I find out entirely too late. I overestimate how much space there is- there isn't even enough room for me to lay down- and I feel myself starting to roll off of the bed. To compensate, I roll towards him instead, but with a little too much force, and I find myself lying flush on top of him.

Peeta grins before he even opens his eyes. And before I have time to react, he reaches his hand up to the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss.

This kiss has a feel unlike any other. Again, it is natural, not for show, so that in and of itself is enough to distinguish it from so many others before it. But unlike the kiss we shared on the roof a month ago, it isn't delicate and hesitant- it is stronger, more confident, more passionate. The stirrings inside my chest in the arena pale in comparison to what I am feeling now. But it is a double-edged sword, because with the spike in pleasure comes the associated pain and guilt that I could be feeling any pleasure at all. We are on the brink of an event so destructive that both of our siblings, plus numerous others, could be brutally murdered on TV. Just the thought is enough to curb the stirrings.

I pull away and roll off of him onto my side. "I'm sorry, I can't," I whisper. I cough a couple of times. "It's just, um-" I search for a way to describe it, "-not right, right now." It's the best I can do.

Peeta rolls over and spoons me, putting his arm around my waist. "It's okay," he whispers, "I understand. But it was still a pretty great way of being woken up, so thank you." I roll over so that we are face-to-face, and I can see that grin again. I can't help it, it's infectious- I grin back.

"I didn't mean to wake you. In fact, I came in here to get some sleep myself," I say. Peeta nods, gently kisses the tip of my nose for a moment. He then closes his eyes again. I follow suit, and within minutes, I am out like a light.

Peeta wakes me late in the afternoon, saying that the ceremonies are going to start within a couple of hours, and this was as late as I was allowed to sleep according to Effie. He had gone to see her, where she told him that Prim and Paavo both did well in their initial meetings with their prep teams and were currently meeting with Cinna and Portia. Peeta and I were to report to our prep teams in the Remake Center immediately for a once-over, followed by hair and makeup.

The first thing my prep team does is chew me out for letting my hair get so frazzled and not grooming myself regularly. Flavius actually calls Cinna and informs him that I have an 'eyebrow emergency' and insists on waxing them, along with my legs, which adds a significant amount of time. My hair must be cut before it is styled, as I am plagued by 'ragged split-ends that appeared out of nowhere' in the past month. By the time I'm finished with hair and makeup, there's less than a half hour before the ceremonies start, and I am in full-fledged panic mode.

"Listen, guys, I need to go now! I have to find my sister!" I exclaim, anxious. Octavia swats my hand away as I go to chew on my nails. But they refuse to listen to reason.

Peeta knocks on the door a little while later, ready to go and looking for me, wondering what is taking so long. I am still stark naked, surrounded by my prep team, so they won't let him in.

"Please, one of you," I beg of them, "Tell Peeta to check on Prim, if you're not going to let me do it. Please!" I know how desperate I sound. "And have him check back."

Flavius cracks the door, and I can hear him speaking to Peeta. A moment later, he starts to shut it, but it before it can close all the way, it swings open again. I shriek, thinking it's Peeta, because I am no less naked than I was a minute ago. But it is only Cinna.

"Katniss, I am so sorry that things worked out like this," he apologizes smoothly. "Portia is with Paavo and Prim on the bottom level, and Peeta is headed down there now. They're _fine_, don't worry. They both look great. Peeta will be back up here in a couple of minutes to take you guys to your special seats. I'm going to head down to City Circle now. I'll hopefully see you down there soon- if not, though, definitely later tonight." He strides out of the room with the utmost confidence.

Cinna's appearance calms my frayed nerves. I am just about ready. My prep team slips me into a yellow dress with more flame detailing, but this time there is no smoke-and-mirrors, no actual flames. It's just a beautiful dress with beautiful beadwork and stitching. They also slip some low yellow heels on my feet; I sigh in relief that I will be able to walk at a somewhat regular pace.

A few minutes later, Peeta returns; this time, I am fully dressed and significantly less freaked out. The prep team wishes us luck and Peeta begins to escort me from the Remake Center back towards City Circle. The opening ceremonies are only minutes away, but he assures me that we'll make it on time. We can hear the screams from the Capitol audience as we quickly walk towards the crowd.

"You do know where we're going, right?" I ask nervously.

"It's kind of hard to miss, Katniss," he replies. "You'll see."

"And…you wished my sister luck for me?" My mouth twists painfully. "I feel awful that I couldn't do it myself." I am sick with guilt, hope that she isn't mad.

"Yes, she was fine, she understood," he reassures me. "It wasn't your fault; she knew that."

"How did she look?"

Peeta smiles. "She looked great. I think you'll like what Cinna did."

I smile back. "I have no doubt." I don't pester him for details. I'm anxious to see it for myself.

As we make our way towards the circle, Peeta guides me in a direction as to avoid the throngs of spectators nearby, working our way towards the far end. But rather than staying outside, we duck inside a building and begin ascending the steps inside of it.

"We're in here?" I ask skeptically.

"Trust me," he replies. We continue to climb the stairs, floor after floor- for some ungodly reason, there's no elevator. But when we get to the top, and step out on the veranda- we can see everything. What a wonderful view.

What a wonderful view until I turn to my left and see President Snow, clear as day, glaring back at us from his balcony. We are in the building immediately adjacent to his mansion. I let out a soft groan.

We arrive not a moment too soon; the Capitol music has already started, indicating that the Tributes have already left the Remake Center and are on their way towards us. But it isn't for another twenty minutes or so that the tributes from District 1, glittery as ever, appear on their chariot pulled once again with snow-white horses.

Knowing that I will be watching this event again later this evening, I tune out the tributes from the other districts for now, thinking only of Prim- since I haven't even seen her yet. It is an agonizing wait, but after another ten minutes I hear the shouts of "District 12!" and I look down to see our tributes on the chariot of black horses. Peeta grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

Paavo comes out looking like several of the past tributes from District 12- he is definitely a coal miner. He wears a simple pair of black pants and a matching black shirt- and his face and arms are covered with a black powder, like coal dust- except that Cinna seemed to add a bit of sparkle to it. With his substantial frame, his weight gain from training, and his dark eyes- nothing like Peeta's sparkly blue ones- Paavo looks absolutely terrifying, like Thresh from District 11 last year. However, I don't take much time to look at him because of who is sharing his chariot.

Prim is wearing a vibrant yellow long-sleeved dress, her already blond hair brightened and in beautiful ringlets. Like last year, Cinna makes an effort to play with light to capture the audience's attention- Prim's dress is comprised entirely of feathers, which glow subtly yet almost fluorescently in the approaching darkness. Her makeup is heavier than I would prefer, but her darkened and smoky eyes portray that of a doe-eyed animal. When she reaches up timidly to address the audience, her sleeves pull a substantial amount of dress and feather with it; her arms appear to transform into wings, flapping as she waves. Prim is a canary. A canary in a coal mine. The color in an otherwise gray day. Prim looks perfect; bright, vulnerable, unforgettable- the outfit is totally her. Cinna is a master.

But that isn't all. A haunting little melody, a canary birdsong, escapes from the District 12 chariot, somehow rises above the crowd noise- Cinna must have added it for effect. It is not Prim's look but the melody which makes me think of my father, and even Gale now, down in the mines. And for the second time in as many Capitol appearances, I break down and cry.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

Unlike the last time I had an emotional outburst at the Capitol, this time my tears are expected, even encouraged; they are part of the big show. I can see cameras panning from Prim to me and me to Prim, alternating images of us flashing on the gigantic screen. The older sister who had survived the Games cries for the younger one yet to play. Come to think of it, this is probably why, despite our different 'angles', Cinna designed Prim and I matching color dresses. The people at the Capitol are probably eating this stuff up. Just the thought of my heartfelt moment being used for the Capitol's entertainment makes anger override sadness as my dominating emotion, stopping my tears in their tracks. I wipe my eyes and look over at Peeta, who is looking wide-eyed back at me, clearly afraid to do anything that will worsen my heightened emotional state.

When the District 12 chariot comes to a stop, Prim is close enough to the building that we make eye contact. I think of only her as I smile at her and blow her a kiss. Prim's bottom lip trembles, but she blows one back to me, and the Capitol audience, witnessing the entire thing on the jumbo screen, goes ballistic with their cheers. I look at Peeta, who slyly uses the opportunity to kiss me for the camera a few times, to the delightful uproar and thunderous applause of the Capitol citizens. The music ends and President Snow begins speaking; I refuse to look over in the event that he catches me giving him the hairy eyeball. All too soon, Prim and Paavo are paraded around once more and then taken into the Training Center.

The opening ceremonies are over. Peeta grabs my hand again as we exit the veranda and begin our long descent of stairs. He swings our arms a bit, asking eagerly, "Well, what did you think?"

"Prim looked perfect," I reply. "Cinna did such a great job capturing….what she means to me. Paavo looked like someone that you don't want to mess with. What did _you_ think?"

Peeta laughs. "That Paavo _is_ someone that you don't want to mess with. That Prim looked beautiful. That they both have the potential to get great sponsors. That we're lucky to have Cinna and Portia as our stylists. And….well, that you look beautiful tonight, too."

I thank him, face burning, and wholeheartedly agree with him about our stylists. We make it a point to express this to Cinna and Portia when we meet them along with Haymitch, Effie, Prim, and Paavo for dinner. Upon seeing Cinna back at the Training Center tower, I trap him in a fierce hug, near tears, murmuring, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you,' over and over. Cinna simply smiles and tells me that it was his pleasure.

When the guests-of-honor arrive, back in their normal attire, I engulf Prim in a huge hug, telling her how beautiful she looked and how proud I am of her for holding her head high. I know that it took an extraordinary amount of bravery on Prim's part just to get through the evening- like me; she isn't one for crowds or in being the center of attention. I also turn to Paavo and congratulate him on a job well-done; joke with him that I am thoroughly afraid of him now. He doesn't even crack a smile.

An extravagant dinner is served, and we dig in. We chat about the opening ceremonies a bit; Peeta and Effie discuss the looks of the other tributes, with Paavo and even Prim chiming in on occasion based on what they saw in the Remake Center. I don't have much to say as I wasn't paying enough attention; I'll really have to concentrate when we watch the tapes of the reapings and the opening ceremonies. Which, by the businesslike look on Effie's face throughout dinner, seems as though it will be very soon.

Sure enough, as soon as we're finished eating, Effie insists that all eight of us gather around to watch the viewings in the sitting room. Peeta and I share a couch; since our kiss, he has made it a point to sit as close to me as humanly possible. I am too preoccupied with Prim to have the focus to decide how I feel about it.

We begin with the reapings. The reapings from the Career Districts are the most interesting- simply because of the increased number of names to choose from. Besides having the most overall victors, the Careers often train as families- such as the brother and sister tributes from District 1 who won in back-to-back years. This year, a boy named Silk and a girl named Ruby volunteer to take the place of those originally chosen; Silk looks strikingly similar to a District 1 winner from several years ago, so I'm guessing he's his younger brother. I can't match Ruby, complete with fiery red hair, to any of the Victors I had ever seen; she must not look like the rest of her family. In District 2, it's Stone and Nutmeg. Stone is apropos as a name; the guy is massive, medium height but almost equally as wide, and all muscle. He is the son of the Fifty-third Hunger Games victor, fittingly named Boulder. Nutmeg is the sister of a winner that also happens to look a lot like Clove- I would bet my hat that they are all in the same family.

In the outlying districts, there is a far less expansive selection of paper slips in the reaping ball. Many of the victors went on to eventually have families, but a few didn't- so in a couple of cases Capitol had to reach a little to find a tribute that was in the appropriate age range. In District 8, the female tribute (who has such a rodent-like look I immediately dubbed her Mouseface) ended up being the daughter of the victor's third-cousin. In District 10, the male tribute that was selected was actually the grandson of the victor who had won one of the very first Games.

I do, however, notice a few things. Haymitch is right. As all of the tributes are related to victors, they don't look as hungry or desperate as some tributes that I have seen in the past. And since in a few other districts there were only a slip or two of paper in the reaping balls, those tributes, like us, knew it was coming and thus looked well-prepared- so it was an entirely different feel from the other Games. Both realizations are giving me knots in the pit of my stomach- it only makes things harder for Prim.

Next is the parade. I watch intently while the others glance at the screen in between their own commentary. Silk and Ruby are showing off their bedazzled looks; Stone and Nutmeg are fiercely intimidating. When the District 4 chariot goes by, I can't believe I didn't notice her before- the female tribute has to be Finnick Odair's younger sister. Tall, bronze flowing hair, bright green eyes, tanned complexion, brilliant smile- and a body that will earn more male sponsorship than ever before. She is dressed as a mermaid- skintight shimmery aqua bottoms, a couple of sparkly seashells a bit of string on top- and that's it. Looking at her, I realize that she is probably the deadliest tribute yet- if her trident skills are anything like her brother's.

The Capitol takes precisely that moment during the broadcast to pan to me and Peeta overlooking the ceremonies. I am sitting there unaffected, looking eagerly over the parading tributes for a glimpse of Prim, but Peeta is clearly ogling Finnick's sister- jaw dropped, eyes bulging out of his head, the works. Peeta is cold busted. Picking up on this, the Capitol immediately turns the camera elsewhere- I'm surprised that they didn't edit it out. On the couch in the sitting room, I feel a pang of discomfort, feeling somehow conflicted. With a sidelong glance at Peeta, I see that his eyes are fixed to the floor, he is blushing furiously, and that he has inched ever-so-slightly away from me.

I continue watching the parade, and while no one else particularly captures my attention, I try to take in the tributes from the rebelling districts, at least. I notice the male tribute from District 7 named Paul, though it would be hard not to- he looks to stand almost seven feet tall and has the build of a lumberjack (presumably). In District 11, the female tribute with an olive complexion and dark hair looks as though she is a younger, fitter version of a woman named Seeder, who I recognized from a previous Games. But, honestly, none of the tributes stand out as much as in some of the previous years- they are all fairly attractive and in good shape, making them more homogeneous as a group. And each tribute stands on average at least a foot taller and seventy-five pounds heavier than Prim.

I wonder about the probability of the much-hoped for alliance- I suppose we will find out more tomorrow. Without it, checking out her competition only makes me more fearful for Prim's life.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

After viewing both the Reaping Day and opening ceremonies, we are ready for bed. Training looms on everyone's mind, and it's crucial for Prim and Paavo to sleep well, but the rest of us too- because whatever they tell us after their training sessions is going to be needed to devise strategies for the alliance- so we will need to feel rested, quick-witted, and prepared.

I don't stay in the suite tonight, but instead sleep in Prim's bed down the hall. Things are slightly awkward with Peeta with the kiss, and catching him so blatantly checking out Finnick's sister on TV, so I am a bit relieved to temporarily avoid any uncomfortable conversations with him. But mostly, Prim and I only have a few more nights to spend together, after which I probably won't ever see her again. After viewing the other tributes last night, I force myself to acknowledge the reality that for Prim, even after her extensive training, the odds aren't exactly in her favor.

Prim and I awake by 9 a.m. to ensure that she has plenty of time to get ready before heading down to the below-ground portion of the Training Center. I do anything to try to keep her from getting nervous; I sing to her as we braid her hair, I make sure that she has everything that she needs. I don't leave her side. At about a quarter to ten, we collect Haymitch, Paavo, and Peeta and head down the hall to the elevator.

"Okay, remember guys," as we enter the elevator Haymitch starts in on his spiel, though Prim and Paavo have heard it already- I suppose it can't hurt for them to hear it again though, especially in their state of mind. "Check out every station of survival skills. _Every one._ But there are a number of stations, particularly knot-tying, edible/medicinal plants, camouflaging, and fire-starting- where you shouldn't need to spend very much time at all. Your _only _objective for these stations is to try to assess what type of environment the arena will be, and determine whether that environment will change your strategy in regards to the particular task. Will the arena be a rainforest? Deciduous forest? Desert?" he rattles off some of the most common ones seen in the Games. "Make sure that whatever climate you suspect the arena will be won't affect your ability to perform the task, but then move on. Take notes, and be sure to report back _anything_ to us this evening."

Paavo and Prim nod solemnly. Haymitch can really turn it on when he wants to. His speech is impassioned and moving, almost Capitol-esque- before everyone realized what awful people they were.

"Now," Haymitch continues, really warmed up now, "Paavo and Prim, you both are to skip the knife-throwing as well the as archery station- Paavo, you don't want the other tributes to see what you can do- and Prim- uh, you don't either. Instead, spend some time using the hand-to-hand combat weapons- they were the ones that unfortunately we had difficulty obtaining in District 12 for your training. Prim, they are bound to have a trident- for the District 4 tributes if no one else- try to practice using it. You might feel more comfortable with a weapon that doesn't have to leave your hand. God, I hope so."

Paavo and Prim nod again. A quiet tear forms in the corner of Prim's eye at the insensitivity of what Haymitch just said, but she doesn't speak up. I'm tempted to chew Haymitch out for her, but he quickly moves on.

"Also, find ways to talk to the tributes from some other districts. You know, the ones that we spoke about before?" Haymitch is purposefully being vague since we are riding a Capitol elevator. We essentially were told to assume that everything here at the Capitol is bugged. Talking about alliances themselves is not necessarily suspicious, but under no circumstances should it be revealed what the alliance actually plans to do, and if it isn't obvious who's aligned, at least at first, all the better. He continues, "I was able to speak with one of the other district mentors today. He told me that some of the tributes might want to talk to you about forming an alliance. For today, I don't want you to ask them about it directly, but strike up as many conversations as you can, and see who brings it up. Tell us tonight who has asked you- and we'll see where we stand." Haymitch goes on. "All right. That's it for now. Any questions for today?"

Prim and Paavo slowly shake their heads. Prim is visibly trembling. I give her a quick hug as the elevator door opens on the bottom floor.

"Good luck today, Little Duck," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a wink. She gives me a half-smile in return, letting me know that she appreciates my effort in cheering her up, regardless of whether or not it actually worked.

"All right. Good luck down there. Come back up to our floor and meet us for dinner when you're done." Haymitch shoos Prim and Paavo out the door as he hits the Close button. Then Haymitch, Peeta, and I are skyrocketing back towards the 12th floor.

Peeta and I don't have much to do all day- just make sure we're rested for tonight. Haymitch is hunting down sponsors, Effie is off socializing with Capitol people- and we have no access to anything going on in the training rooms.

We are walking towards our suite when I decide that I may as well address the awkwardness of last night, since I haven't yet had the chance to talk with him about it. I dive in. "Look, about last night…"

"Look, if you're mad, I don't know what to tell you," Peeta says defensively. "I was just looking at her- she's a really attractive girl- but that's it. I'm already embarrassed enough about it as it is. Caught on camera. Sheesh," he rambles. Clearly he is not comfortable with the subject matter.

"Look, I'm not mad," I say. "Just…" I shrug, trying to put into words what I'm feeling, coming up unsuccessful. Is it jealousy?

The minute my mind begins to try and wrap itself around that word, Peeta looks at me with a sly smile. "Whoa, you're jealous, aren't you? Huh."

I shrug again, wishing he would drop it. He does, but not before he says, "I'd be looking at you the same way if you wore something like that, you know." His smile is a mile wide as he says it.

We end up spending the day watching TV in the sitting room. Not productive TV, mind you- the mindless drivel that the people of the Capitol tend to eat up with a spoon. It is a day off for us, of sorts- until we hear from Prim and Paavo how their training went. Given how tense things are going to be once Prim and Paavo are in the arena, and how hard Peeta and I have worked over the last few months in training them, we are both grateful to pass the reigns to someone else, if only for a few days.

At five o'clock, Haymitch and Effie return to the floor, almost giddy. Not surprisingly, Cinna's outfits were a huge success, and Haymitch in particular has been talking up sponsors all day, with very promising results. Whether those 'very promising results' actually translate into something useful for Prim in the arena is another story, but it's at least a start.

At five-thirty, Prim and Paavo open the doors to the sitting room. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and I immediately swarm them, peppering them with questions about the training center. 'Did anyone ask you about an alliance?' 'Did you learn any new weapons?' 'Do you know what kind of arena it's going to be?"

Prim's timid responses: "Yeah, actually all of the tributes from Districts 3, 4, 7, and 8 approached us. No one from 11 yet though" and "No, I haven't gotten to any of the weapons stations yet; watching the other tributes with weapons scared me, so I stuck with the survival stations,". She sounded much more eager, though, and had a gleam in her eye, when she said, "I don't know what type of environment the arena will be. The plants that they had were inconsistent with any one climate. They had plants from tropical climates and ones from much cooler ones- so it's clear they've been engineered by the Capitol to thrive in different conditions, unless the Capitol is putting some in the training center that won't be in the arena just to throw us off the track. One thing's for sure, though- some of the plants with medicinal properties were really, really strong- stronger than anything that Mom has ever had. The leaves were abnormally large on a lot of them. I don't know if the Capitol wants the plants to save people or poison them- but I think they could do either, or both. Oh, and as for the edible ones a few of them were flowering much more than you would expect. They might end up being a substantial food source."

A full day of training, watching all of the other tributes master sharp and deadly weapons, and Prim wants to talk about plants. It's going to be a long four days.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

While we all understand (Peeta and I firsthand) how knowledge of the medicinal properties of plants can lead to survival in the arena, and know that it will play to Prim's strengths once the Games begin, we try to wheedle slightly more relevant information out of Prim and Paavo over dinner. Since Paavo didn't visit many survival stations, and Prim couldn't foretell the arena's conditions from what she saw, it was important to switch gears and learn about the other tributes' strengths and weaknesses so that we could ultimately figure out how the newly formed alliance can take down the Careers.

Prim eventually begins to open up about the interactions that she had with the other tributes- interestingly enough, no one approached Paavo- I suppose because out of the two of them, he looks a lot less approachable. Apparently, Prim had a brief chat with Finnick's sister, whose name is Annella, at the camouflaging station. Annella and her District partner Joel both seemed very excited about the alliance, though they were afraid to say much. Prim said that the District 3 tributes, Ohm and Copper, were pretty socially awkward. Apparently they approached, asked about the alliance almost reluctantly, and immediately spun around and left after getting the okay from Prim. The girl from District 7 named Elena, who is related to Johanna Mason, was painfully shy when introducing herself. She told Prim in a wavering voice that she figured she would be less intimidating approaching Prim on behalf of their district than a guy almost 7 foot tall, like Paul, her district partner. Prim had told her that she was right- and Elena gave her a shaky smile. In District 8, both Mouseface (I can't even remember her real name, though I know that Prim told it to me; I'll never be able to think of her as anything else) and her district partner Jack (like the cheese- I had to laugh at that one) struck up a conversation at the fire-starting station, and Prim liked them almost immediately.

Though Paavo didn't have anything to contribute on the tributes' personalities, he had attended a few of the combat stations and was observant of his competitors in action. None of the tributes were practicing with weapons most commonly seen from their District- they were all trying out new ones- but he was still able to gather a fair amount of information. Watching Annella and Joel work with club like weapons, he said, two things were clear: 1) Joel was almost as skilled in combat as Annella, and 2) using the tridents so proficiently clearly crossed over onto other handheld weapons- they were both superb. Paul seemed to have good machete skills, as it was more similar to an axe than most of the other weapons there- but didn't have very good aim with a bow and arrow. The converse seemed to be true for Elena- she was far too petite to wield a machete with much accuracy but hit the archery target consistently. Paavo didn't get to watch the District 3 or 8 tributes, but he did notice that the Seeder relative from District 11 and her partner both performed well with knife-throwing.

Haymitch thanks Prim and Paavo and dismisses them for the evening, telling them both to get some rest. The four of us that remain at the table try to figure out what exactly to tell them tomorrow morning before their training. The information that they provided so far, while useful, still gives us far too little on which to devise a strategy.

How do we handle the initial sound of the gong? Do we instruct the tributes in our alliance to run into the Cornucopia and participate in the bloodbath merely so that they could get their hands on some weapons? Do we tell them to run far, far away rendering them unprotected but still alive? Collectively, the four of us decide that somewhere in-between is probably best. When Peeta suggests that it would make sense for the most proficient tribute in each district to head into the Cornucopia to retrieve their weapon of choice as the other heads for shelter/protection, the rest of us nod our head in agreement, and Haymitch agrees to instruct Prim and Paavo to speak with the other tributes about it. Thinking that this strategy would most certainly involve Paavo, not Prim, running into the Cornucopia to attempt to bring back a knife, I heave a temporary sigh of relief.

Another possible strategy that is pitched in our little huddle is the concept of one of the tributes in our alliance working the Careers, a la Peeta in last year's Games. Pretending to team up with them, finding out their strategy, and deserting them when the timing is right. This isn't anything new except to Effie; we had spoken about it while we were preparing, but Effie receives the idea positively if distractedly- discussing strategy is obviously not her strength unless it pertains to presentation and manners. Nonetheless, after talking about it a little more in-depth, we agree to send out feelers through Prim and Paavo in the morning, to see if any of the other tributes would be up to the task.

A few hours later, I slip into the bed with Prim and gently wrap my arms around her. Debating ways to try to keep her alive is draining- because it forces me to acknowledge that there is a very good chance that I will lose her.

The next morning, Haymitch relays the info we discussed to Prim and Paavo, telling them to covertly discuss the strategies with the other tributes in their alliance. When he brings up the idea of one of the tributes playing a mole, surprisingly, Paavo speaks up.

"I'll do it," he says plainly.

We look at him in surprise. "And, if the opportunity presented itself," Haymitch begins seriously, "could you kill them? Take down however many Careers that you could before coming back to the alliance? At the risk of your own life?"

"Of course," Paavo replies. "I-, I mean, we- want to win. We won't be able to do that if we don't take risks."

Haymitch shrugs. "If you're sure," he mutters, before escorting us all into the elevator, dropping the subject.

After taking them to training, Peeta and I decide to spend the day on the roof, where we can talk freely in the garden. It is a gloriously sunny day and we let the sun wash over us. At one point during our conversation, Peeta stops midsentence and kisses me, passionately and with a feel of desperation, but after only a short while I pull away. If I could think only of how his warm lips felt against mine, and how safe from the world I felt in his arms, I would. But my mind is on Prim, what she's learning, how she's training, praying that whatever it is, it will be enough to keep her alive. Peeta deserves more than that. So once again I distance myself from the boy with the bread.

Peeta sighs. "I know you're thinking about your sister. But one day, Katniss," he says softly, "I hope that you realize that it's okay to try to make yourself happy once in a while- just for you. And if you can't open yourself up and laugh and kiss and be silly and make out and fall in love than what is the point of life, what is the point in fighting, what is the point in anything at all? You may as well wave the white flag- you'll have let the Capitol win." After patting my shoulder, Peeta gets up and goes inside, leaving me on the roof alone.

When Prim and Paavo return from training, they update us on what they've learned, which at first is nothing earth-shattering. They and the other tributes spoke in hushed voices, never more than a few of them together at the same time, all day to try to start to crystallize some strategies. Prim didn't go to a single weapons station- she was too busy at the medicinal plants station talking to all of the tributes in their alliance about the plants normally found in their districts, learning everything she could. Apparently, all of the tributes there recognized a few plants from home, further indicating that no one had any idea what to expect of the arena's conditions. Haymitch and I both scream at her to train on weapons all day tomorrow, and she reluctantly agrees.

Paavo observed the District 3 tributes at the weapons stations. District 3's weapons of choice back home are electronic- Copper explained to Paavo that they normally use an instrument resembling a high-voltage cattle prod, so she wasn't used to having to take aim. Since the electrification basically eliminated precision, accuracy, and strength, unfortunately Ohm and Copper are pretty inept at any other weaponry- though they assure him that operating the weapons from their district required great skill with electronics- namely, figuring out how to turn it on and keep it running.

When Haymitch asks what Prim and Paavo learned from the other tributes and their mentors regarding the alliance, things change. Prim becomes fidgety; Paavo looks at the ground and grunts. We press them.

"What is it? Just spit it out," Haymitch says.

"Well," Paavo starts, "Um, first of all, the tributes liked the mole idea- and when I told them that I wanted to do it, they all said that sounded good- I think that they were relieved, since it didn't look like any of them wanted to do it themselves," he begins.

"And?" Peeta and I ask him in unison. Clearly this wasn't the whole story.

"Well," Paavo says, "And one of the other district mentors had a different suggestion about the Cornucopia. And, well, we got outvoted by the other tributes."

"What was the suggestion?" I ask instantly. I wish that he would get to the point already.

He spares me nothing. "We are sending the four fastest tributes into the Cornucopia to collect the weapons that would give our alliance the biggest advantage- a trident, an axe, a knife, and the electronic cattle prod. They have the greatest chance of escaping without being drawn into the bloodbath."

I close my eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy. No doubt that one of the fastest four is Prim.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

After hearing what Paavo told me, I am a nervous wreck. Prim, in the mouth of the Cornucopia, fetching weapons in the midst of the bloodbath? I think back to just under one year ago, and my own Games experience, and how I froze at the sight of all of the other tributes running towards the same place, in hopes of grabbing the same things. This cannot be happening. It cannot. That night, I lay restless in bed, watching Prim sleep.

The next morning, before the final training session with the rest of the tributes, Haymitch, Peeta and I urge Prim and Paavo to keep an open dialogue with our alliance- since after this morning their interaction will be more limited until the arena. As of now, what we know about the alliance is still vague. Despite my desperate attempts last evening to convince anyone otherwise, Prim is planning to run directly into the Cornucopia (along with Annella, Joel, and Jack). The others will slowly disperse from the action when the gong sounds, and whoever makes it out with a weapon will essentially pretend to chase those tributes down with it; those watching won't immediately realize that they're on the same team. Assuming that at least a couple of weapons are retrieved, than the alliance should feel somewhat confident that a couple of the tributes will possess weapons on which they are the most skilled. Unfortunately, since no one has figured out any more about the arena, the tributes will be forced to devise some strategies on their own after that. We've given them lots of tips and ideas, but they will vary drastically depending on the environment of the arena. Our job in strategizing for Prim and Paavo will have ended by the time the gong sounds- except, of course, in obtaining sponsors.

Sponsors. I cringe at the thought that Prim will be demonstrating her skills for the Gamemakers this afternoon. What on earth can she show them that could gain her any favor at all in increasing her training score? Unless they have trees that she can climb, I can't think of anything. We've tried her on just about every District 12 weapon imaginable. Perhaps she'll do well with one of the other district's fancier hand-to-hand combat weapons since she won't actually be using it on another person, but it's a lot to hope for with no prior experience. While I'm convinced that her greatest strength is her healing ability and vast knowledge of plants, the idea of Prim explaining that knowledge to the Gamemakers during her 'audition' sounds about as boring as dirt.

My nervousness only intensifies when we are told that Prim and Paavo can eat lunch with us and have a short break if they wish prior to their private training sessions with the Gamemakers. Prim and Paavo report to us about their morning of training, where Prim finally picked up some weapons. She doesn't try to hide it from us- it went pretty awful. Her aim was as bad as ever, so her attempts at trying to shoot anything- from slingshots to darts- were wildly unsuccessful. She fared better with weapons that she could keep close to her body, as all of her training has made her pretty strong for her size. By her own admission she actually did fairly well with some of the smaller machetes- but Prim confesses to us at the lunch table that she still can't fathom using it on another person, trying to inflict harm with her own bare hands. I tell her that it is justified if it keeps her alive. She looks at me and shakes her head, eyes full of tears. I pull Prim aside from the others, kneel down until we are face-to-face, and put my hands on her narrow shoulders, looking at her intently.

"Prim, do you remember the last thing you told me before I left for the Games last year?"

She nods, eyes getting teary again. I say it anyway.

"You asked me to try to win. Really, really try. And you know what I told you?"

"You said you'd swear that you would," she says in a small voice.

"Prim," I begin, choking back tears, "I just want you to come home. You will try, too, won't you? Really, really, try?" I beg, echoing the words she spoke to me almost exactly one year ago.

She takes a second, and then finally nods. "I want to come home to you. And….I'm sorry about not practicing with hand-to-hand combat weapons earlier."

I nod, too. "It's okay," I say. "Just….try your hardest with the Gamemakers. You need to make an impression. Do something that they've never seen before."

Prim looks at me, wheels turning. She finally gives me a faint nod, eyes wide, understanding how serious this is. "Okay, I'll come up with something, I promise. Can I go in my room and think it over?"

I nod. "Sure."

Prim goes down the hall and leaves Haymitch, Effie, Peeta, and I to continue discussing strategy with Paavo- though his approach is relatively straightforward- knife-throwing and hand-to-hand combat are clearly Paavo's biggest strengths. Paavo eventually excuses himself, too- his nerves look as though they're at an all-time high. Private sessions for the Gamemakers will do that to you.

Haymitch, Effie, Peeta and I are all too anxious to say much over the rest of lunch. We chew our meals in silence and watch the minutes tick away. We're not the only ones- by the afternoon when we escort Prim and Paavo to the ground floor of the Training center, Paavo and Prim both look as scared as I've ever seen them. Clearly, the time they spent in their rooms didn't result in any earth-shattering ideas. Haymitch attempts to calm them with a few words of advice.

"Okay, Paavo, just remember everything that you went over with the Fish-Man," he began, "and make sure that the Gamemakers see you- especially your spin technique. Showing them your hand-to-hand combat skills won't hurt either- especially since you're a talented wrestler. You saw that Peeta was able to get an 8 last year just by throwing some heavy stuff around. Focus more on your knife-throwing, but be sure to do some lifting and throwing, too." Paavo nods in assent.

He gently puts a hand on Prim's shoulder. "Now sweetheart," I can't help but grin a bit as I see that Prim now has adopted my once-despised nickname, "you've been trained in a lot of areas, so even if you don't feel confident, remember that you have versatility, which is more valuable than you think. I know that your specialty is plants; I've spoken to the Gamemakers about providing some for your private session; just try to make it a little interesting, or at least keep it brief- don't stand there and drone on about them. If there are ropes, climb them- show off your agility. Also- you are a strong little girl- don't be afraid to try out the machete again- and you have the strength to throw- as long as there is a big enough target. For the love of God, don't aim for something small. Don't do anything where you have to really aim at all. Got it, sweetheart?"

Prim nods, trembling. Then, while we are standing outside of the elevator, we hear the name Silk from District 1 being called to summon him for his private session. The auditions have started.

We tell them to come back up to the sitting room as soon as they're finished. I give Prim a crushing hug and wish her luck, assuring her that she'll nail it. I don't believe my own words, but killing her confidence, already on life-support, won't accomplish anything. Paavo and Prim slowly walk down the hall as the elevator doors close.

I spend the entire afternoon pacing the floor of the sitting room while Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie rest on the couch. One, two, three hours tick by. _Patience. District 12 is last_, I try and reassure myself. But I simply cannot relax.

Finally, after what feels like a million years, Paavo enters the sitting room, with a little half-grin on his face. We all immediately rush to him. When we all ask in different ways how it went, he simply nods confidently and tells us that he hit all the targets that he tried, and was able to do some good wrestling and throwing. _Yes!_ Haymitch practically jumps into the air. At least one District 12 tribute should get a decent training score.

It's a good forty-five more minutes before Prim makes an appearance- and even then, it's only a brief flash of her as she quickly goes down the hall- though not as quickly as usual. The first thing that I notice is that she is limping slightly, is ghastly pale, and that the entire leg of her pants is caked in dried blood. Since I am closest to the hallway, I try to follow her as she moves as nimbly as she can to her room, but she has too much of a head start. I catch only a brief glimpse of her face before she goes inside, but tears stream down her cheeks, somehow not budging some other dried blood that has affixed itself there.

"Prim!" I scream as I try to get in the room with her, comfort her. But the door slams in my face before I get the chance. I hear unfettered sobbing. I knock on her door, but she doesn't acknowledge me. "Prim! Are you all right? Tell me what happened! How did you hurt yourself?!" No response except for more sobbing. I feel powerless now, but I also remember how I felt after my audition; I certainly didn't want to discuss it with anyone, especially at first. But there's something I need to hear from her before I'm willing to walk away.

"Prim!" I yell again. "Just tell me that your leg is okay- and I'll leave you alone," I say. "You can fill us in later." It takes every bit of self-restraint I possess to leave it at that.

"It's okay," I hear her say after a minute between sobs, softly yet distinctly. And true to my word, as much as it kills me, I turn and walk back to the sitting room.

Cinna and Portia have joined us, and we are all eating dinner (well, I am pushing food around on my plate, pretending to eat, but in reality am far too anxious over what happened to Prim), when Prim eventually reappears, freshly changed, color in her cheeks. Though I want to immediately pounce on her about what happened, I manage to hold my tongue and let her speak first. Eventually she does.

"I cut myself with the machete," she says plainly.

Ouch. We all look at her sympathetically. Haymitch gently puts his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says in quite possibly the gentlest voice I have ever heard out of him, "I should have known, should never have advised you to use it- you just don't have enough experience, you were bound to get hurt. Let us see it."

"No, you don't understand," she says. "I cut myself on purpose. So that I could show them how I can heal it."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:

When Prim lifts up the one side of her skirt (which I now know she wore specifically for this big reveal, because she never wears them otherwise) and shows us the remnants of her self-inflicted knife wound, we are all astonished. Not only has the bleeding stopped entirely, but the slice, which covered almost the entire length of her thigh, now appears to be only an eighth of an inch deep or so. Given the size of her wound, there is no possible way that the machete didn't slice her right to the bone. It instantly reminds me of Peeta and his leg after I had given him the intense Capitol medicine- and I am completely mystified as to how Prim could have concocted something so potent out of the plants that she was provided.

I look up at her, incredulous. You can still see where the tears fell on her face, but Prim manages to give me a little smile. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done, Katniss," she says. "But you told me to do something that they've never seen before. I tried my best. I told you that the plants were exceptionally strong."

Haymitch has yet to pick his jaw up off of the floor as well. "Did they dismiss you after you did that?"

Prim shakes her head. "No. They were in shock, I think. That was the last thing I did- I had already climbed some ropes for them. I waited for them to, but they never said anything. Eventually I just thanked them for their time and limped off."

"I'm still concerned. The Games start in a couple of days, Prim," I say. I look back at her leg. Miraculous, no question about that, but her leg is not 100%, and it needs to be when she gets into the arena. But regardless if her leg is fully recovered by the time the Games start, I would be willing to bet that the chances of Prim getting sponsorship just skyrocketed. All in all- the sacrifice of the health of her leg was worth it. I need to keep this in mind.

We retire to the sitting room to watch the tributes' scores flash up on TV. The Careers all achieve 9's or 10's; Annella pulls an 11. I think to myself how lucky Prim is to have her as part of the alliance. Districts 3, 5, and 6 all earn mediocre scores at best. Paul from District 7 earns an eight and Jack from District 8, a seven, but those seem to be the highest scores awarded outside of the Career districts- until they come to us. When Paavo's name and picture flash up on the screen, they are accompanied by the number nine. And when Prim's name finally appears, we see the number 10 beside it.

The highest score outside of the Careers! All for my sister, who despite her training still weighs less than ninety pounds. I feel a rush of pride. We all look at her, grinning. Paavo's score was expected, but this- no one can get over it. Prim grins back.

The second that the broadcast is finished, Haymitch leaps up with renewed energy- the night is young, he says, for boozing it up with the sponsors that Prim is sure to have now. Effie follows suit, saying that she has a lot of socializing to do, and Prim and Paavo retire to their bedrooms, weary after an exhausting day (though not before we command Prim to treat her wound again thoroughly before bed). Peeta and I are left in the sitting room, and for once I don't let myself feel the weight of Prim's life on my shoulders. The euphoria from Prim's unexpectedly high training score has produced such a sense of accomplishment that I feel justified in taking a mental respite, however temporary. I let out a long sigh of relief.

Peeta reaches over and grabs my hand. "So, that was pretty awesome," he says.

"Yeah," I echo, tension escaping slowly from my body. Peeta speeds the process along by taking his other hand and massaging the back of my neck.

"So, um, have you had a chance to think about what I said to you the other day on the roof?"

"No," I answer him honestly, "I haven't. But I suppose I could take a little while to think about it now."

Peeta nods, gently stroking my hand as we sit in silence. I allow myself to ruminate on his thoughts. After a while, something occurs to me.

"I think you're wrong," I say finally. "I have so much love in my heart already; all of this is for my sister, and the love that I feel for her. I'm not letting the Capitol take any of that away from me."

"It's not the same thing, Katniss," he whispers. "I'm talking about this." He leans in closer to me and kisses me on the lips.

It's the kind of kiss that gives me stirrings in my chest again; stirrings that spread through the rest of my body like wildfire. Astoundingly, my initial instinct to start throwing buckets of water, to find a way to put those feelings out, or at least contain them- doesn't kick in. We have all the time in the world- no one is here watching us. Prim is as safe as she will ever be- her leg will heal, and she isn't in the arena yet. And we have done as much as we possibly can to prepare her- given her the space to hone her own talents, the exposure to everything she will encounter, the courage to earn one of the top training scores on her own and the protection of an alliance that can take her to the very end. That 10 was confirmation that all that we tried to do for her has paid off, that we've done enough- at least for tonight. All thoughts of Prim leave my mind. And I kiss Peeta back, and relish his arms around me, keeping me safe and warm.

We kiss for hours, and I fall asleep in Peeta's arms, right there in the sitting room.

* * *

We wake up the next morning to the sounds and smells of breakfast. Somehow, we managed to sleep through Haymitch and Effie returning late into the night. The instant I awake I am back in the real world, thinking about Prim and Paavo's interviews, nervously awaiting tomorrow evening. Last night with Peeta was a mental vacation of sorts- but now it is time to get back to work.

Sure enough, while we're eating, Haymitch requests that Peeta and I participate in the interview preparation today. Since Prim and Paavo are going to be coached together, all six of us can just hang out on the floor. However, we do split up a bit anyway, as Effie's training for Prim and Paavo will vary- Prim needs to practice walking in heels and generally being feminine and naïve- not exactly the angle that Paavo is going for.

Prim fairs better with Effie than I ever did- being girly just comes a little more naturally to her, even though she is far younger. She walks around in her heels as if she had been born with them on, and becomes proficient at batting her eyelashes and holding her dress in just the right way. Haymitch, also, is impressed with her in terms of content- she's still painfully shy, but it can work to her advantage, he says, if she is just herself- everyone will see her innocence and naiveté. The trick, he says, is letting people see her strength as well- with her high training score no one is going to buy that she's a weakling. To me, whether or not her inner toughness will come out onstage depends entirely on what Caesar asks her.

The day passes quickly, but by the end, us mentors are mentor-ed out. Peeta leads me to the couch in the sitting room again- for I'm sure what he hopes to be a repeat performance of last night- but this time we have company, as Haymitch and Effie are too exhausted to go out schmoozing up sponsors. Instead, we watch the interviews from some previous Hunger Games, looking for some inspiration for last-minute advice for Prim and Paavo. When our interviews from last year come on, I can't get over my nervousness, Peeta's charm. I would never have believed it at the time, but now, almost a whole year removed from the situation, and after everything we've been through, it is clear that Peeta meant every word he said that night. I squeeze his hand and give him a smile. But when the viewings are over, and it's time to choose beds, I know that I need to be with my sister.

The next morning Cinna and Portia arrive early to assess what they need to do to ready the tributes for tonight. They quickly collect Prim and Paavo to hand them over to their prep teams.

Though Peeta and I have the day to ourselves again, any romantic notions that he may have had are immediately thwarted by the fact that I absolutely cannot relax- all of the work that we've put into training Prim is for naught if she bombs this interview. It's hard to imagine that she will- she's a lot better at pleasing people than I am- but too much hinges on this evening to be able to focus on anything else.

Because as the happy couple we will certainly be featured on a few cameras this evening as well, we are taken to the Remake Center for our prep later that afternoon. It is only after I am prepped by my team, after Prim is completely dressed, that I am finally able to see her in her interview outfit.

Prim's hair is pulled back in intricate braiding and her makeup looks phenomenal- dramatic yet natural. She is wearing another yellow dress- this time, there are no feathers, only feather-shaped sequins. It has a fitted bodice, but somehow puffs out structurally at the bottom in a way that for me completely captures a canary's plumage. This dress, however, has a large slit in the front that goes up mid-thigh. Under it, her legs, in sparkly orange-tinted tights, end in shiny orange heels with horizontal black stripes, Cinna's way of recreating bird's feet. But what I notice most is that Cinna and the prep team have completely finished curing Prim's leg- there is no longer even a faint trace of the awful self-inflicted wound she suffered just a couple of days ago.

I finally relax. Prim is ready.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N:  
Your lack of reviews are a little unnerving...hopefully you like where I'm going here :)

Chapter 22:

As Peeta and I are escorted to our seats, once again high up overlooking the stage of the Training Center, I am amazed at the sheer number of people present. I am instantly grateful that I will be a spectator rather than an active participant (even if the cameras turn on Peeta and I, smiling and waving usually suffice). Though we are relatively close by Capitol audience standards, we are not in the elevated seating unit near the front and thus are nowhere near as close as I would want to be to really watch my sister- though the giant projection TV behind the stage helps that cause, I suppose.

Caesar Flickerman is already seated on the stage. This year, his hair, eylids and lips are a creamy lavender, but otherwise he looks exactly the same, wearing his traditional midnight-blue suit. All twenty-four tributes march out to the audience's claps and screams, each taking their seats in the giant arc behind Caesar and the empty chair reserved for each interviewee. Prim looks gorgeous but shy in her canary dress; Paavo looks ominous in an understated black suit. It is nearly a minute before the audience calms down long enough for Caesar to speak. He welcomes everyone by telling a few jokes, then starts the show by calling tributes one-by-one to sit next to him, beginning with Silk.

Looking at Prim, my earlier confidence has evaporated- she looks like she is waiting to be shot. She looks paler now than after she sliced her leg open. I wish that I could run down to the stage to comfort her; being out of arm's reach of her makes me feel helpless. As if reading my mind, Peeta grabs my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

While Caesar is interviewing the other tributes, I don't pay a lick of attention. Like the opening ceremonies, all of the other people are a huge distraction- but unlike that evening, tonight I can look at Prim the entire time. She keeps her eyes fixed downward; doesn't make eye contact with the audience, and keeps biting her nails throughout. I get more and more anxious for Prim as the interviews wear on. I see nothing but her face.

I hear Caesar's voice, his booming laughter; I hear the timer ding every three minutes. I hear voices of the tributes, though I don't register a word that they are saying. I don't comprehend any words at all until I hear Caesar exclaim, "And now from District 12, Primrose Everdeen!" It's as though I've suddenly woken up.

I watch as Prim nervously arises and slowly walks towards the chair next to Caesar's, never picking her eyes up from the ground. She sits down, face crimson, and tries to block out the audience. I empathize- waving for an audience was one thing. Answering questions where everyone in said audience is hanging on your every word was quite another. Caesar takes his hand and gently puts it underneath Prim's chin, pulling it up. "It's okay, you can look at me," he tells her gently, reassuringly.

Even though he is addressing the same person, he then raises his voice, including the audience, starting the interview. "So Primrose, let's take you back to this time last year. Your name is called at the reaping, and your sister steps in to volunteer for you. What's going through your mind?"

Prim murmurs something so quiet it's unintelligible.

Caesar smiles a little at her shyness, and quickly smoothes things over. "I'm sorry, Primrose, you're going to have to speak just a little louder. Let the audience hear that pretty voice."

Prim clears her throat. "I, um, said that at first I was shocked, and really upset, but after a while I realized I was grateful that she would do something like that for me." Her voice is still quiet but thankfully is loud enough to be picked up over the microphone. In response, the crowd falls completely silent.

Caesar nods encouragingly. "Of course, I think that we all were quite taken with your sister's actions. Now tell me Primrose, do you remember the conversation that you had with your sister prior to her leaving for the Games?"

Caesar is just playing up the story now; everyone already knows what Prim said because I spoke about it in my interview last year. But Prim repeats it anyway- and it reminds me of our conversation only a couple of nights ago.

"I asked her to try really hard to win," Prim says softly.

Caesar nods. "And win she did, Prim. Now, what has it been like with your sister being the winner of last year's Games? Has she been a good mentor to you, helped you prepare for what you are about to face in this year's Quell?"

"Yes, the best," Prim replies, her voice a little stronger now. "And I want to take this opportunity to thank her for everything that she's done- which has been more than you can imagine. And to tell her that I love her very much." Her voice cracks right at the very end, and she looks right at me, above the audience. My eyes fill with tears, and I sense that there are several cameras capturing the heartfelt moment. The audience erupts in cheers before falling silent again.

"Well said, Primrose," Caesar compliments her. "Now, I love the look from your opening ceremonies, and from this evening," he gestures to her gown. "So, it looks to me like you are a canary. Can you explain to the audience the relevance of this costume to your District?"

"Well, um, caged canaries are taken down into the coal mines with the workers," Prim explains, "because they are sensitive to a lot of the lethal gasses produced. When the canary stops singing and shows signs of distress or dies, it's an indicator that the conditions are unsafe, and the workers know to immediately get out."

"So it sounds to me like canaries are very vulnerable creatures," Caesar says. "Do you feel vulnerable compared to the other District tributes?"

Prim's voice grows quieter again. "Yes," she squeaks out. "Because I, um, don't know if I can be violent. I think violence toward others is wrong- I don't even want to hunt animals for food. I understand why people would choose to do it in the arena, if they have to, but I still hate the thought of having to hurt anybody myself. I would prefer to heal people; help them the way that the canaries do," she explains.

My heart swells with pride. My sister may be shy, but that is the single bravest thing I've heard anyone say in these interviews. Yet she manages to retain her endearing innocence.

Caesar looks a little taken aback. "Then how do you expect to win?" he blurts out reflexively, very un-Caesar-like.

"Maybe when I get in the arena my mind will change. If not, I guess I'll just have to outlast them," Prim responds. "There's less of me to feed. I can hide. I'm pretty smart. And I can heal people- myself, and others, if they're nice to me," She gives a little giggle.

"And you must do those things very well, Primrose, to have received such a high score in training." The timer dings, and Caesar looks disappointed, as he appeared to be ready to ask another question, specifically one that gets to the bottom of Prim's unusually high training score. He quickly covers for it though. He sweeps his arm out, gesturing to Prim. "Ladies and gentlemen, our time is up, but please put your hands together for Primrose Everdeen, the Canary from the Coal Mines!"

The audience bursts into almost maniacal applause, and you can see the relief visible on Prim's face; she practically runs back to her seat. In my life, I have never been more proud of my sister.

Paavo saunters to the interview chair next. Though intimidating in demeanor, he is clearly certain that his training and subsequent training score will give him an advantage in the arena; he is brimming with confidence. He sits down and crosses his legs, looking at Caesar expectantly.

Caesar inadvertently chuckles. "All right, Paavo," he begins, "So it was between you and your brother Paca in the reaping ball when your name was drawn. Are you glad you got the nod instead of him?"

"Yes," Paavo responds. "If Paca's name had been drawn I would have volunteered for him."

"Well, that's awfully nice of you," responds Caesar, though he sounds a bit skeptical. "Now, I think I speak for everyone when I say that our hearts all went out to Peeta here last year, after declaring his love for Katniss Everdeen," he says. "What is your reaction to that?"

Paavo's already dark eyes cloud over. "Peeta and I are nothing alike," he practically spits out. "He is weak, letting his silly schoolgirl crush interfere with his preparation for the arena. And he had to rely on her to carry him all the way to the end, because he couldn't even fight for himself! I guarantee you that won't happen to me. When I am the last one standing, it will be because I scratched my way there tooth and nail. I'm not a lover; I'm a fighter."

Peeta and I look at each other. Paavo's true colors are showing, and at this moment, I'm convinced that all of our efforts to reign Paavo into the alliance may have just gone by the wayside.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23:

Nothing else stands out about Paavo's interview for me; just that one again, he reminded me of Thresh- powerful, sullen, threatening. Caesar tries a few of his characteristic one-liners but Paavo doesn't even crack a smile. When his is finished, the audience looks more scared than anything, and there is only a smattering of applause.

Paavo heads back to his seat, and shortly thereafter Caesar ends the program, allowing the tributes to escape backstage. Peeta leads me down to where the tributes are gathered; however, intuition tells me that I should not him confront Paavo at this point. Though I didn't interact with Paavo one-on-one much during the training process, I insist to Peeta that I see him myself.

"Please, Peeta? I can talk to him. I don't want a fight breaking out." Not that I really thought that Peeta would start one- Paavo was right about one thing. Peeta is definitely more of a lover than a fighter. My lips are still a little tender from his kisses. Though he looks angrier at the moment than I've seen him in a long time.

Peeta nods and turns away. En route to Paavo, I see Prim and give her an enormous hug, picking her up and twirling us around.

"I'm so proud of you, Little Duck," I say. "What you said was….so brave and amazing. You were perfect."

Prim smiles, still in my arms. "Thanks. I learned any braveness I have from my older sister."

I put Prim down and excuse myself before I have the chance to get choked up. "I'll see you back upstairs," I quickly say as I turn away from her. Looking at her for another second will cause me to lose it.

Paavo sees me coming and shrugs his shoulders as I approach. When I get close enough, he whispers in my ear. "Look, I know what you're going to say, but I did what I had to do, all right? In two days we'll be in the arena, and I'm supposed to try to team up with some of the toughest competitors in the Games, and somehow convince them that they can trust me, all while I'm stabbing them in the back. How am I supposed to do that if it appears that I'm aligning with _anyone_? The Careers need to think that I'm a loner."

I nod my head. "They won't have any doubt about that now," I whisper back carefully. "I'm not sure anyone else will either." Paavo's rationale makes sense- but somehow I doubt his motivation. I now shake my head. "I can't believe that you said that about your brother, after all of the work that he put into training you. I'm going to tell him that you told me to say you're sorry." With that, I turn and walk away. Thankfully, Paavo doesn't protest, so I accept it as his silent permission.

When I get back to Peeta, I apologize on Paavo's behalf; explain what Paavo told me; try to smooth things over as much as possible. I'm real sweet and kiss him a few times and by the time I'm finished Peeta is relatively placated. He lets me lead him away from the tributes, back to the Training Center tower.

That night, I snuggle with Peeta for a little bit, but when I hear Prim come in I spend every spare second with her. I can't believe that the day after tomorrow she will be in the arena. Unfortunately, I can't focus all of my attention on her, because there is still one event forthcoming that I guess I have to think about- the other wedding special. None of us from District 12 have yet to hear much about it.

The next morning, Peeta and I are hijacked by our corresponding prep teams, and I spend the entire day getting plucked, primped, and styled. My look may have been muted for the events where Prim was meant to be front and center, but tonight- it is all about Peeta and I. Cinna presents me with my dress almost apologetically, saying he wishes he knew more about the event and hopes the dress will suffice, but I think it's perfect. It's a little simpler than some of his past designs- no bells and whistles, just a beautiful white flowy gown with some rich gold accents- but I've never seen anything like it. Cinna explains that it's a tribute to an old story called Romeo & Juliet, about another very young couple that gets married. I've never heard of it.

"What happens?" I ask Cinna curiously.

"It doesn't matter," he replies, giving me a grin. "You guys will write your own ending."

This wedding event is as horrifically boring as the last. Peeta and I greet each other on stage with passionate kisses. It's definitely a little different since we started kissing each other that way behind the cameras; it feels- amazing. We view a little highlight reel of our relationship from last year's Games, showcasing the most pivotal and romantic moments between Peeta and I. The Capitol also puts together a montage of some of the wedding planning- a few clips from the last event, some things that the Capitol has done. Caesar brings Cinna out to discuss the winning wedding gown- the long-sleeved dress with pearls, and they talk a bit about some accessories. God, could anything be more boring?

Next, Peeta and I are seated, and who I am guessing are Avoxes start bringing out beautifully wrapped boxes and gift bags with glimmery ribbons. Apparently the Capitol is trying to recreate for us what they call a wedding shower- which befuddles me as District 12 has never had them; no one could afford expensive wedding presents let alone find the extra money to give the bride and groom anything else. Boxes and boxes appear and I want to be sick to my stomach. Peeta and I already have everything that we need over in the Victor's Village; the thought of people sacrificing for us is sickening.

I want to take the packages and hand them right over to the people of District 12. And if that can't happen, I want to refuse to take them. But Peeta eagerly starts opening the packages, and by the way that he is looking at me, he wants me to do the same- and without a word. I realize that he is right- the last way I want to be portrayed on TV is ungrateful. I am already so lucky; the least I can do is be appreciative opening the packages and feign excitement. As I try to take a second to glance at the tags before unwrapping the lavish gifts, I notice that most of them are from people of the Capitol and not from starving Panem citizens in Districts 5-12. Thank goodness. Unwrapping the packages takes forever, though , and I could care less about the contents- most are household items, presumably, for our lives back at Victor's Village in (I'm guessing?) a new place for Peeta and I after the Quell.

Next is the segment on the suite for our wedding night, the heart-shaped lock- and wouldn't you know, immediately after that segment ends a few more packages are marched in, specifically being brought to me. What is this? I open the first gift, but am too mortified to hold the contents up to the audience, as I had done with the previous presents. The box contains skimpy lingerie. Black lace, leopard-print silk- I shudder wondering how on earth the Capitol thinks it's appropriate to present a seventeen year-old girl with this kind of stuff. I can't even bear to think about my mom watching this on TV right now back in District 12. And Gale! I'm hoping that the stage somehow decides to swallow me up.

I look to Peeta pleadingly, hoping for righteous indignation- but I don't see it. In fact, he is wearing the exact same expression I saw watching the playback when Annella was waving in our direction at the opening ceremonies. Mouth completely agape, eyes so wide they're nearly out of their sockets- no doubt, he is picturing me wearing all of this skimpy stuff. Thanks to Peeta, my utter humiliation is partially replaced by completely new emotions- power, at having that kind of hold over someone, and – what the hell, I may as well admit it- some desire, too, thinking back for a split second on our passionate kisses the other night. Though humiliation is still predominant. I flush bright red.

"Looks like our bride-to-be is a little embarrassed," remarks Caesar jokingly, which is received with hearty laughs from the Capitol audience. "Don't worry, Katniss," he explains, "A lingerie shower isn't uncommon at all. We want you to be well-prepared for your wedding night, and since the Capitol is obviously the most lavish place that you two have ever seen, we've arranged for you to honeymoon here as well- you'll have the suite a whole week. Ladies and Gentleman, the star-crossed lovers from District 12!" The audience bursts into applause, moved by the 'generosity' of the Capitol. This is apparently the end of the special.

Translation: After the Quell ends, after one or both of you have lost your siblings, you won't even get to go home to your families.

My anger towards the Capitol rises, though I do nothing except take Peeta's hand with one hand while waving at the cameras and still-clapping audience with the other. This is not the time to express my dissatisfaction. Tomorrow Prim enters the arena.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24:

Back in the Training Center Tower, Haymitch puts on the replay of the interviews, and the group of us sits through them grudgingly. Prim shines. I briefly worry that her bold statement about disliking violence will come back to haunt her before realizing that she was probably doomed long before that, when President Snow mentioned changing our wedding date. Paavo and Peeta are seated as far from each other as you can get within the confines of the sitting room; during Paavo's portion of the interview they both busily stare at the floor.

After the replay is over Prim and Paavo get ready for bed; they are to be awoken pretty early in the morning for preparations before heading off to where they will be launched into the arena. Though I won't be able to accompany Prim- only Cinna is allowed- I insist that Prim wake me up to say goodbye...although I'm sure I'll get up as soon as I hear her getting ready anyway. Peeta does not share the same desire to see our tributes off- he still seems a little shaken by what Paavo said- so he gives Prim a crushing hug before she heads to bed and tells her he wishes her all the best. When it's his turn to acknowledge Paavo, Peeta sticks out his hand.

"Brother, no matter what happens, you're my family and I'll always love you," he says. "Now go out there and kick some butt. But remember what it's all about. Got it?"

Paavo nods stiffly, shaking his hand. He doesn't apologize, but he doesn't say anything condescending either, so I guess that's a plus. They don't hug- I'm not sure whether or not I was expecting them to. I guess a handshake is as much as you could hope for after what transpired last night, but it makes me sad. I make a mental note- not that I'll need it- to squeeze Prim extra hard when I hug her tomorrow. Then the District 12 tributes go to their rooms in the tower of the Training Center for the last time.

I join Prim a few minutes later- it's been an emotionally trying day, and I'm exhausted. Plus I want to spend the next eight hours as close to my sister as I can- I can't believe that she is going to be taken from me tomorrow. Though I am thankful that she doesn't have to go through this alone, like I did. I hold her as I try unsuccessfully to drift off to sleep, and hours later when I finally do the night is filled with unsettling dreams.

* * *

When I hear rustling and see that a light had been turned on some time later, I realize that Prim is already up and getting dressed. She doesn't have her arena uniform on yet- Cinna will give that to her later- so she just wears her regular clothes. But I have something for her. I roll out of bed and rustle in my bag for it.

"Here you go, Little Duck," I say, holding out my mockingjay pin for her. "I had good luck when I wore this. Maybe the same will happen for you." A lone tear threatens to force its way down my cheek as I pin it to her shirt.

Prim looks me in the eye, eyes glassy. "I'm scared, Katniss," she says in a wavery voice.

"I know," I say softly as I pull her to my chest, hugging her tight. "Me, too."

Just then, Cinna knocks on the door, ready to escort Prim to the place where she will be launched into the arena. I insist on following the two of them as far as I can; unfortunately, that is only down the elevator to the floor of the Training Center. There I am forced to look my sister in the eye and say goodbye to her- without the expectation of ever seeing her again. It shouldn't be that hard- I've done it before, just over a year ago. But this is completely different. That time, our fate was in my hands, not hers. I have never felt so helpless.

"You've gotta come back to us, Prim," I choke out, trying not to burst into tears. "Mom and I love you too much."

As I am fighting not to cry, Prim shows the braveness that even after her interview I was not aware that she possessed. Her face turns to steely resolve. "Don't worry, I will. I'll do whatever it takes. I love you, too," She sounds like a warrior- and while this is so unlike my sister I have a hard time understanding that it's her- it is what I need to see from her to keep it together. She is young, in danger in so many ways- but she has become a fighter. That is what I see when Cinna and Prim turn to walk away and the elevator door closes abruptly; separating me from my sister, probably forever.

I feel a huge rush of breath escape my chest. For a few minutes I just stand there, seemingly unaware that I am in an elevator and that it should, in theory, be moving somewhere. Suddenly, it hits me where I am and I numbly press the number 12, floor not feeling steady under my feet. I somehow make my way back to the suite, but hesitate when I reach my room. I don't want to go back to bed alone. I instead duck into Peeta's room and slip into bed with him- he doesn't seem to wake up but he sighs peacefully as he puts his arms around me, pulling me close. I am too emotional to go back to sleep but I lay there in silence, enjoying the feel of my security blanket.

An hour or so later, Effie knocks on the door. Thankfully, her 'it's a big, big, day,' speech sounds a little more appropriately muted. We get dressed and head to breakfast. As delicious as the food looks, I can't bring myself to take a single bite- my stomach is already full of butterflies. 8:07 a.m. The gong will ring in less than two hours. The minutes tick by, though agonizingly slow. 8:23.

Around 9, Haymitch tells us to follow him. Neither Peeta nor I have any idea where he is going. This part of the Games is a little unprecedented for us- we are used to the arena, the fighting - not the sponsors or anything else Haymitch ever did for us. We took the other fork in the road. Though now that Prim and Paavo our out of our hands- permanently- it makes sense for us to all stick together now.

As it turns out, we go to a bar. I snort as we enter- it figures. This isn't an ordinary bar, however. It is part of the Training Center, is absolutely gigantic, and- as Haymitch explains as we make our way to a few of the only remaining open seats- is where the official odds/lines of the Hunger Games are tracked. There is an enormous screen overhead with each of the tributes' names outlined in shiny colored flashbulbs. And next to their names are the numbers that this place, and the betters, have momentarily set as their odds- which keep updating as more and more bets come in. I look briefly and a few names (and numbers) strike me- Annella, 4:1. Paul, 10:1. Paavo, 8:1. Prim, 20:1.

Twenty to one. So even with Prim's high training score, the oddsmakers aren't putting her odds of survival much higher than if she were to win by pure chance. Versus Annella, whose chances, at least for now, appear to be 25%. Twenty-five percent. The odds are definitely in her favor.

Next to the odds, a giant TV screen is black. But that changes a few minutes later, after Haymitch has already downed several shots of something smelling like kerosene and Peeta and I stand by him with a feeling of helplessness. The screen suddenly flashes color as it turns on. The bar crowd of Capitol citizens, already pretty raucous for 9:45 in the morning, goes wild, cheering and chanting and clinking their beer mugs together. They pull out wads of money in their fists and thrust them towards the bet-takers. They spill their drinks, shout to each other across the room, laugh heartily, and already some of them stumble around. But none of that matters to me, not even a little bit. My eyes are glued to the television screen.

The cameras are on the twenty-four metal circles surrounding the Cornucopia. None of the tributes have been launched into the arena, and the Cornucopia is currently empty, but the camera keeps shifting angles, and you can get a pretty good idea of the arena itself.

It appears to be comparable to a taiga-like biome. Some coniferous trees sporadically dot the landscape, but most of them look fairly small. The branches don't look thick enough to support the weight of a human. Though Prim is the lightest tribute by far- if anyone could stand in one, I bet it would be her- I am doubtful that she could find any kind of refuge here. There are a couple of other plant varieties, some shrub-looking things, but pretty limited vegetation otherwise, at least in this part of the arena. Though there is one thing that seems to be more than abundant- snow.

The metal circles on which the tributes will start the Quell are almost entirely surrounded by the stuff. Only a narrow path of wood leads the tributes to the Cornucopia if they don't wish to fall into the white powder- which is tempting to avoid, because who knows how deep it is, or if it's really frozen water. But blocking those paths are moss-covered rocks- which are definitely heavy enough and large enough to impede the tributes' progress- especially Prim's.

Outside of the circle, at least for as far as the angles of the cameras show us, there are only occasional rocks and trees interrupting the vast snowy expanse. To me, the Gamemakers' motivation for this seems obvious- why give the tributes a place to go if they can just battle it all out right here? Why not try to take out as many other tributes as possible and set up camp in the Cornucopia itself? Nothing close by can provide as favorable a shelter. This seems significantly different from last year's games; the closest survivable environment to the Cornucopia itself must be quite a distance away. They are banking that no one will get there. My stomach churns with anxiety at the thought.

Just when I think I can't get any more nervous, the tributes are shot up into the arena.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N:

Sorry this took so long guys- this part is harder to write than I thought it would be. Also, before I write any more, I'd really appreciate some clarification. So, my impression of the showing of the Hunger Games based on what I remember from reading the books is as follows:

There are tons of cameras all throughout the arena recording 24/7, but the Gamemakers choose only one camera feed to broadcast at a time (presumably somewhere in a control center), and they switch it up based on what is most exciting to watch. This is then broadcast to citizens of Panem 24/7.

Frankly, if this is true I am a bit surprised that Suzanne Collins never addressed (that I can remember) the effects of a 24/7 broadcast on those watching (i.e. Prim, Gale, Katniss' mom)- wouldn't they have experienced massive sleep deprivation? Anyway, if this is wrong, let me know in a message. Thanks!

Chapter 25:

The sixty seconds that Prim stands on her circular metal platform before the gong sounds quite possibly are the longest of my entire life.

In that minute, I stare at the TV screen, oblivious to Haymitch and Peeta and the shouts of the betters and everything else that is going on around me. I watch intently as the camera pans from tribute to tribute. I try to take everything in that I can. Their full-body snowsuit-type uniforms appear fairly protective- they are mostly comprised of some sort of puffy synthetic material (presumably waterproof) constructed at the Capitol, and the tributes are all wearing hats and sturdy-looking boots. I would expect nothing less, however, if the Capitol intends for any of the tributes to survive overnight- you can see their breath.

Once I realize that they've been moderately well-equipped in attire, I look at their faces to distinguish the tributes from one another. The camera first lingers on Annella. Despite the circumstances, I stifle a laugh. Her turtleneck has a huge gash in the front, allowing her cleavage to show- her stylist must have realized that the added male sponsorship far outweighed any cold that the tear introduced to Annella's skin. She looks nervous but completely in control. The camera pans to the other tributes. Silk, Ruby, Stone, Nutmeg, and, well, Paavo, look as if they've been waiting for this moment their entire lives. A few others look like Annella, confident yet anxious. Everyone else looks pretty appropriately terrified. And then there's Prim. When the camera shows her face, she's wearing that warrior-like mask again- the one that I have difficulty fathoming belonging to my sister. I feel a surge of hope. I don't believe for a second that she isn't awfully frightened underneath it, but seeing her this way leads me to believe that she's capable of keeping her emotions in check.

I wonder about the plan for the alliance now that there's been something literally thrown into the mix- the rocks are completely in the way. For the four headed into the Cornucopia, how are they going to get past them? For those that aren't, how are they going to communicate where to meet up? With the rock barricades there really is no way for them to see each other across the Cornucopia; from afar their uniforms are a shade of blue light enough to blend in with the snowy background, or sky for that matter. Hopefully the tributes in the alliance are good at figuring out contingencies.

I don't have the opportunity to ponder this possibility very long. The gong rings out.

I wish I could just watch my sister. The butterflies in my stomach all take flight simultaneously; I have to fight to keep last night's meal down. I just want to see that she's all right, until- well, she's not. Watch every move that she makes. Unfortunately, while the bloodbath is occurring, they generally give all the tributes fairly equal camera time. So I'll only get to watch her for a couple of seconds for every minute of the Games.

Silk, Stone, Paavo, Joel, and Jack immediately get to work on moving the large rocks out of the way. It takes all of their effort, though- even in the cold you can see sweat start to accumulate on their foreheads as they struggle to lift such heavy weights so quickly. The few girls that try to muscle their way around the rocks don't fair quite as well. Ruby and Nutmeg are probably the strongest- they seem to be able to lift as heavy a weight as the guys can- but they move significantly slower doing it. The other girls- Annella included- succeed in dislodging a few of the smaller rocks, but not enough to free a body width. And when they go to move the larger ones, they don't budge.

The camera finally zooms in on Prim, who is carefully examining the moss on the rocks and starting to scrape it off with her fingernails. Good grief. Again with the plants.

The girl from District 5 and the boy from District 9 almost simultaneously have the idea to try to sidestep the rock wall obstacle simply by stepping into the 'snow'. Since they can't see one another, unfortunately they don't have each other to learn from. The second that they do, they plummet downward and out of sight- the snow has to be at least 10 feet deep. There is no splash or thud, the snow doesn't turn into acid or develop tendrils that pull the tributes under, but after a few seconds a white gas starts to escape into the sky, and soon after both tributes begin to scream.

Haymitch leans over and slurs to Peeta and I. "I think the snow is shaved dry ice- frozen carbon dioxide," he says. "It's used by the laboratories in the Capitol. It's incredibly cold, and it sublimates- it doesn't exist as a liquid. So this snow will cause frostbite much more quickly than the regular stuff and it won't be a source of water. Lucky them."

I nod, my eyes fixated on the screen. I can't tear them away.

The two tributes in the snow stop screaming, their bodies undoubtedly going into shock. No one is about to risk their life to save them, and they won't survive the hypothermia that is sure to kick in. They're goners. Though the cannon won't confirm it until the action at the Cornucopia has stopped.

Not that there is any action- yet. But there soon will be. The camera turns to Paul, the towering District 7 tribute. With a running start, a several foot vertical jump, and an extreme height advantage, he is able to grab the top of the wall and with sheer strength pull himself up, scaling the wall without dismantling it. He will have to climb it again assuming he turns around, but that is of little concern at the moment. He is first over the wall. Though he isn't one of the original four slated to collect a weapon, in an instant he realizes that he's the first one over and stands the best chance of retrieving anything without getting hurt. He dashes into the Cornucopia straight for his weapon of choice (and the alliance's) - a bright shiny new axe.

Some of the other tributes are not quite so triumphant. A few of the girls, abandoning the idea of moving the rocks altogether, instead try to climb them, but to no avail. The moss has rendered the surfaces of the rocks incredibly slippery. The cameras show several of the tributes trying to put their fingers in the gaps between the rocks and hoisting themselves up. But there is only unsuccessful attempt after unsuccessful attempt as the tributes slip off of the rocks and crash to the ground.

It is then that I realize that Prim is a genius. In pulling away the thick layer of moss, not only has Prim removed the primary source of the slipperiness but has also revealed even deeper grooves in the rocks to better pull herself up. The camera realizes this at the same time I do and cuts back to her, just in time to see Prim scrambling up the side of her rock wall. All of that tree climbing did pay off.

The camera then shifts back to Annella. Why, I can't quite figure out at first, because she had no luck at all scaling the rock wall with all of the moss- until I see a little silver parachute dropping onto her metal circle. Sponsors in the first few minutes! I don't know if I've ever seen that before- but Annella isn't exactly your typical female tribute. She quickly opens the container to find a climbing anchor connected to a rope. She immediately gets the idea, attaching the anchor to as far up as she can get on the wall, and begins to ascend it.

A couple of the others are fast on her tail though. Stone, Paavo, Joel, and Silk are all making excellent progress. Surely they will all gain access to the Cornucopia within the next minute or two. Jack, the District 8 tribute in the alliance, is also moving rocks, but since he is not as powerful as the Careers, he is a little ways behind the others.

Meanwhile, Paul is still at the Cornucopia, wildly gathering food and water, matches and flint, anything that he can fit, and stuffing them frantically into his bag. Prim arrives and instantly goes for the knife. She also disappears into the Cornucopia and comes out a moment later brandishing a large flat plastic disc- a sled. It is unassuming but may be the most important tool for survival yet. It is an emergency exit- right from where they are, with no additional running or climbing required- the terrain slopes downward out from the Cornucopia. She calls out Paul's name and holds it up for him to see; he nods ever-so-slightly in return. With this newly hatched last-ditch escape plan, armed and together, they don't move from the Cornucopia, but rather seem to be waiting for whoever makes it over/around the wall next.

That person ends up being Annella, thanks to her sponsors. Unfortunately, not five seconds have elapsed after her arrival when Silk has moved enough rocks to appear on the far side of the wooden path. Prim and Annella freeze, eyes bulging, unsure of what to do, when Silk begins running up the path right towards them. But Paul, already with the axe in his hand, takes a swing. Not at Silk- he's still way too far away- but at the wooden walkway at the edge of the Cornucopia leading right to him. Paul strikes wood hard, but needs several more swings before something happens. But not all that many. Turns out, the wooden pathways are not very thick, and were suspended over the snow like a bridge. Silk keeps running but can feel the tension release beneath him. He grabs the edges of the wood with his hands and hangs on for dear life as the bridge collapses deep into the snow. Silk remains on the wood, somewhat insulated from the cold, but is now far out of reach of the Cornucopia. If someone doesn't rescue him, he's in trouble.

Prim, Paul, and Annella breathe a sigh of relief- until they look up and see that Stone and Paavo have now gotten around their rock walls as well. Not wanting to see what Paavo is willing to do to project himself as the loner in front of Stone, Prim shouts out the only thing that she can think of.

"Run! Now!"

Paul doesn't argue- he starts barreling across the Cornucopia to where Prim has the sled. Unfortunately, it's taking him a little time, as he is completely weighed down with provisions. Annella takes a second, too, as she was frantically searching for her trident. Prim mounts the sled and shouts one more time.

"NOW!"

By this point Paavo and Stone are both running toward them. Annella and Paul, realizing the gravity of the situation, accelerate towards Prim. As if by magic, Annella's long sought after trident catches her eye in the snow, a mere few feet from where Prim is positioned with the sled. Annella quickly plucks it from the ground as they jump on the sled with a running start and the three of them glide over the snow away from imminent danger- for the time being.

We are less than fifteen minutes into the Quell. While Prim's heart may still be beating, my heart feels like it's sputtering with no rhythm whatsoever and I feel like I have almost had a brain aneurysm at least twice. Never mind Prim. How _I_ am going to survive days or even weeks of this is beyond me.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Thanks for the nice reviews, guys. They make me want to write :)

Chapter 26:

Now that Prim, Annella, and Paul have an aligned trio that has temporarily escaped the bloodbath, for the moment the cameras appear to be giving them a fair amount of time. Of course, anything to keep the camera on Annella will probably increase the satisfaction of the male viewers. Not that she is exuding sexiness right now- she is splotchy red and bawling unashamedly.

"Joel…." She cries out to Prim and Paul, the three of them still on the sled, though it has finally come to a stop now on flat ground, a few hundred yards away from the rest of the action. "He's the closest person to me here. We need to go back and get him! He's a part of our alliance, too. He's strong- he's probably at the Cornucopia by now. We can't leave him there by himself."

No doubt the Gamemakers are paying attention, as the cameras coincidentally flash back to the Cornucopia- showing Paavo and Stone animatedly engaged in conversation. Paavo is laying out his case as to why Stone shouldn't kill him then and there- as you might imagine Stone's weapons of choice are rocks, which were readily available to him after moving them to clear his path, so he charged into the Cornucopia already armed in a sense. Stone considers this a moment and drops his weapon; tells Paavo that what would convince him the most is if the two of them could rescue Silk. With the three of them and any of the girls from Districts 1 and 2 in an alliance, Stone reasons, there is no reason that they can't essentially pick off all of the other tributes one by one. Paavo agrees. And just as they reach their agreement, shaking hands, Joel appears from behind what used to be his rock wall, now in many pieces.

This is Paavo's chance to prove that he's with the Careers, though he has to be willing to sacrifice someone from the alliance to do it. He is. Prim had grabbed the most visible knife in the arena- but it certainly wasn't the only one- and it didn't take long for Paavo to locate another when he arrived at the Cornucopia. Without hesitation, Paavo launches his knife toward Joel, and it spins wildly before landing directly in Joel's chest. With a look of utter surprise and confusion in his eyes, Joel falls forward, dead.

I cry out in pure shock, and have to look away from the TV screen for a moment. To my surprise- everyone else is still actually here; I had completely managed to block out those around me. Haymitch is looking into his liquor glass, shaking his head. And Peeta- the look of pain behind his eyes is immeasurable. I instantly realize that I need to put my own worries aside for a minute- because I didn't just watch my sibling kill a member of the alliance. I give Peeta a fierce hug. He pulls me even closer, and we embrace for a long time. At one point, he breathes deeply, and I think he might be smelling my hair.

When we pull apart and look at Haymitch, he looks more distressed than I have ever seen him. "What's wrong?" I ask him. Not that this whole situation isn't bad. But things so far seem to be going according to plan. Prim and Paavo are both alive and appear to be in secure alliances. They should outlast at least some of the other tributes. Things aren't concrete, but are they ever in the arena? Their actions so far are at least somewhat encouraging.

"This is awful. Worst-case scenario, in my opinion."

Peeta and I are confused. "Why?" Peeta inquires.

Haymitch doesn't respond for a minute; continues to shake his head. Finally, he dives in.

"You two know that I have been speaking to a lot of the other rebel armies in the districts," he begins, "and it should make sense to you that many of them are the families of tributes, which is how the other mentors and I were able to coordinate an alliance from everyone in our districts selected for the Quell." He pauses, taking a glug of his foul-smelling alcohol and grimaces before letting out an enormous belch. Looking more comfortable now, he continues.

"What you guys don't know is that all of the rebelling armies, depending on where things stand in our districts, were planning to try to break the surviving alliance members out of the arena." He takes another swig of his drink. "If the rebel armies still had a stronghold in the rebelling districts by the time the numbers were whittled down to only alliance members, they were planning to risk it all to save any of their remaining tributes." He sighs, and astonishingly a tear slips down and splashes in his glass.

Peeta and I exchange anxious glances. I speak up hesitantly. "Um, they _were_ planning to save the tributes from the alliance? They're not anymore?"

Haymitch sighs. "I don't know," he replies. "Paavo's kind of thrown a wrench into this whole thing now. Fish-Man wasn't just a guy who was good with knives; he was one of the rebel leaders in District 4 who was wanted for insurrection and sedition against the Capitol. He fled to District 12 in part to hide out- apparently he wasn't quite important enough for the Capitol to look for him there. And in part to do me a favor." He shakes his head. "And now Paavo, who Fish-Man spent so much time training, has just killed his district tribute. I'm not sure that he'll ever speak to me again. I don't know if we can realistically expect the other districts to risk anything for us when we just so obviously betrayed them."

"But…but….," Peeta sputters angrily, "Why didn't you say anything to us before?! We could have told Prim and Paavo of the rebels' plans and they would have had a better idea of what to do and what not to do!" he exclaims.

Haymitch shakes his head again. "I don't think so, Peeta," he says. "I didn't want Prim and Paavo to go into this thing thinking that they were going to be rescued. It would affect their mindset in the arena. This rescue attempt is anything but set in stone- the rebels strongholds in these districts is very tenuous, and without all of the districts in agreement we're not going to be strong enough to pull it off. So the last thing I wanted is for either of them to be complacent. This is why the District 11 tributes aren't in the alliance- the power in that district kept shifting back and forth. We couldn't trust that the Capitol hadn't gained access to their tributes and infiltrated their minds already, threatened them, tortured them; we just didn't know if the rest of the tributes could trust them." He sighs again. "Although obviously they couldn't trust Paavo either."

Peeta and I sit in silence as we take this all in. Okay, I'll admit it- my eyes immediately flicker back to the TV screen, observing what is going on in the arena. At this point Paavo and Stone are using a length of rope tied to the Cornucopia itself and trying to throw it close to Silk, so that he can muscle his way back up to them. The whole time, they're talking trash, bragging about how as soon as Silk gets up they're going to have to start going after everyone, knocking on rock walls, and then breaking them down. Many of the other tributes shown onscreen haven't even left their metal circles. Some are slowly moving rocks, some are just sitting there, shivering. When the camera shows Jack, it is clear that he could potentially move the last few rocks in just a couple of minutes to gain access to his wooden path, but he is cowering behind the still-constructed part of his rock wall. It is clear that with the recent action at the Cornucopia, he is terrified to show his face in front of the Careers.

Only Ohm looks like he is up to something sneaky- like the District 3 tribute from last year, he appears to know how the mines around the metal circles work. He has already removed them from around his circle and is closely examining them, fidgeting with the wires. I am surprised that the Capitol didn't change the mine setup after last year, though the extra drama that it created in last year's Games might have inspired them to rig them that same way again, just to see if anyone picked up on it. Ohm clearly did, and it looks like he is planning to somehow use it to his advantage.

The camera then shifts to Prim, Annella, and Paul, who discovered that where they are the snow is less than a foot deep; they are running. When I look to see what they are running toward, I feel an immediate sense of relief. In the distance, probably a mile or two away at least, is a thick cluster of trees- the closest thing that this arena has to a forest. What's more interesting is that the snow seems to end right near it- there are lush plants that seem to frame the forest entrance. But my relief quickly fades when I think of President Snow and his promise to me to make things hell for Prim in the arena. Like nearly everything else that looks enticing in the Games, the forest is sure to be a trap.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27:

Haymitch, Peeta, and I don't move from the bar. Haymitch keeps ordering more and more drinks and gets progressively more and more wasted; neither Peeta nor I feel good leaving him alone, especially in light of what he just told us. Peeta puts his arm around me, and we just sit there, making sure Haymitch isn't dead as he loses consciousness on the bar, and keeping our eyes on the TV screen. This is a far more drawn out first day of the Games; I can't decide whether the Gamemakers would agree that this is a good thing or not. There hasn't been a bloody battle, where a third to half of the tributes are taken out in the first couple of hours- two of the three tributes that lost their lives so far did so almost by accident. Nevertheless, it still seems to be shaping up into a pretty gruesome day.

By early afternoon, Stone and Paavo have not only helped pull Silk to safety, but they heeded the shouts from the Career girls, Ruby and Nutmeg, to come help dig them out from their rock walls. The Careers then thoroughly ransacked the Cornucopia, taking any food and water, the big weapons, and some of the survival gear. The five of them instantly decided as a group to set up camp in the Cornucopia itself. Since they were not going to have to camp on the ground, or without a form of shelter, they didn't need a lot of the supplies provided- and let them be for now. Since they couldn't figure out how to turn on the cattle prod, they tossed it aside. They started a fire and ate a hearty lunch, after which they were ready to go on the offensive.

The five of them, each a weapon in hand, begin loudly debating over which tributes to take out first, laughing and jeering. I am taken back to last year's games; shudder at the similarity of it all- with the group of Careers relishing their role as bullies, somehow allowing a District 12 tribute to crash the party. I wonder if any of them actually remember the tape from last year. Then again- Paavo has been nothing short of convincing so far.

Things start to get violent. The group goes after the boy from District 10 first, with all of them dismantling his rock wall together and trapping him on his circle. The boy screams as Silk slashes him with his machete, but thankfully when Stone hits him on the head with a rock he is taken out of his misery, though that doesn't stop the rest of them from each getting a swing in with their respective weapons. I can't bear to watch this part- I bury my face in Peeta's chest.

As this is happening, the cameras occasionally show the reactions of the other tributes, all of whom look petrified. The boy from District 5 wets his pants. The girl from District 9 screams hysterically, after which the Careers all agree that she will become the next target- just to shut her up. Her screaming doesn't stop until she's dead. The Seeder-like tribute from 11 has her eyes closed in prayer, whispering to herself. Ohm just sits there, leaning against his rock wall, makeshift weapon in hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. But he doesn't set his device in motion, or speak up.

Next the Careers go after the boy from District 6, who puts up a fight, quickly punching Stone in the face with enough power to briefly knock him out. But one unarmed tribute is no match for five with weapons, and even with Stone unconscious on the ground for a moment, the other four attack him with earnest, and there is no chance for the District 6 boy to survive. By the time the Careers reach Elena from District 7, she had already jumped from her platform into the snow, trying to control her own fate. But that doesn't stop Ruby from throwing a spear directly into her back. Somehow, there's a camera near where her body lay; they show a close-up of Elena's face. Those wide, innocent eyes, no longer with any life behind them, are absolutely heartbreaking. Elena didn't look like she would have hurt a soul. I drop my head in mourning of another member of the alliance gone.

The Careers move on, and as they start to move rocks, dismantling the rock wall of the next tribute, you can hear a single shout pierce the air. "No!" protests Copper. She doesn't say anything else- she doesn't want to upset the Careers like the girl from District 9. But it's enough for Ohm to hear, and he instantly reacts, sitting up, listening carefully- you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. But if he's going to save his district partner, than he doesn't have much time to act. He clears his throat and raises his voice.

"No! Take me first!" he yells desperately.

The Careers look over towards his direction, surprised and amused.

"Maybe we'd better listen to him," says Ruby to the others, in a syrupy sweet tone. She raises her voice to yell back to Ohm. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!" comes the quick reply. "Please- I beg of you." Ruby, intrigued, heads over the wooden path towards Ohm's platform. The rest of the Careers, eager to take their aggression out on someone who is literally asking for it, follow her. They huddle near his rock wall, preparing to remove some of the rocks, when the camera shows Ohm connecting some wires to create a spark, then pitching his apparatus up into the air. He throws himself down to the metal plate and holds on.

The mine explodes before anyone, including Ohm himself, is ready for it- it hasn't even cleared his rock wall, it was only about two-thirds of the way up. The rocks comprising the top of the wall fly outward, hitting Paavo, Stone, and Silk- they boys had all been closest, ready to clear out one of the larger rocks near the side of the wall- and the three of them are knocked to the ground. Silk and Paavo are both knocked unconscious, and a landing boulder pins Stone's forearm to the wooden path. It's oddly ironic. The girls are frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before they head towards Stone to try and free his arm. It is then that the camera moves again to show Copper running towards the Cornucopia.

Since the Careers had already started disassembling Copper's rock wall, she was able to squeeze through with minimal effort. She has almost reached the Cornucopia by the time Ruby and Nutmeg even notice, but they immediately abandon trying to free Stone and take off quickly after her.

It is clear that Copper wants only one thing- the cattle prod, District 3's weapon of choice. Fortunately for her, the Careers didn't hide it or toss it in the snow- it was laying haphazardly next to a bunch of other supplies outside of the Cornucopia that the Careers had deemed unnecessary for use. Ruby and Nutmeg are closing distance on Copper, but not before she reaches the device, hits several buttons simultaneously to turn it on, and takes aim.

The electricity that escapes out of the end hits Ruby and Nutmeg square on the torso, and they fall backward helplessly until they lay flat, convulsing slightly. This particular prod doesn't appear to have quite the voltage to kill. However, Ruby and Nutmeg seem that they will be pretty defenseless for the near future.

Trembling visibly, Copper slowly makes her way towards Ohm's rock wall, towards the male Careers. Almost hesitantly, she reaches out the prod to shock Paavo, Silk, and Stone while they are already incapacitated. The _zap!_ that escapes the prod, combined with the thud of the back of Stone's head hitting the ground, tells me that she has succeeded. Relieved but shaken, she glances over what is left of the rock wall to check in on her district partner. However, once she sees Ohm, who was clearly too close to the explosion to survive, I'm sorry that she did. His body is mutilated, his face utterly unrecognizable. Copper kneels, breaking down into hysterical sobs, choking out her breaths. The arena around her becomes awfully silent.

A couple of minutes later, however, Jack sneaks out from his own rock wall and ventures across the Cornucopia to the other wooden path where Copper sits. He gently taps her shoulder, and she turns around and looks up at him in surprise.

"Look, I know you're upset, but I'm with you and Carrie is too,"- I can only assume that he is referring to Mouseface- "and if we can rescue her now and get some supplies from the Cornucopia, then we stand the greatest chance of getting out of here and meeting up with the rest of them, wherever they are," He gestures vaguely to the remainder of the arena. Clearly he means the rest of the alliance.

Copper nods stiffly. She seems to realize that there will be few opportunities, if any, other than this one to escape the Careers unscathed. Jack helps Copper off of the ground, and the two of them immediately head over to where Mouseface patiently waits for them. The two of them working together, aided by the cattle prod which works as a great tool to knock rocks loose, move enough of the wall to get Mouseface through in a matter of minutes. The three of them have their pick of the Cornucopia, and they take as much as they can realistically haul. But there is no other sled; they have to escape in a much more tedious way- by using the electricity, along with torches, to sublimate the dry ice and free a path on the ground, until they reach a spot several yards away where the snow isn't as deep. Unfortunately, the path that they clear can be followed by anyone else as well. They are simply hopeful that the Careers will be tending to their own injuries for a while before going back out after anyone else.

The camera intermittently checks back to those of the alliance already in the woods- but they're boring, at least right now. Prim, Annella, and Paul walk along, searching for the best places under the tree canopy to make shelter and find food. Along the way, Prim is examining every shrub, fungus, lichen, tree, and berry, collecting numerous ones as they go. My stomach heaves. With how eventful the Cornucopia was today, and probably won't be tomorrow, I have a feeling this is as peaceful as things will be for Prim for a long time.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28:

By dinnertime, Peeta asks me if I want to leave the bar. While I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes off the screen very long up until this point, I am more than ready to get away from this stuffy atmosphere, this crowd. Haymitch is passed out and snoring- he'll be okay without us- but it's a good thing Prim isn't in desperate need of a sponsor right now. Peeta and I leave and quickly head back to the Training Center tower. We run into Effie along the way; we inform her of Haymitch's location and I beg her to keep on top of him with regard to Prim's sponsorship, after which Effie stiffly nods. Even though it only takes a few minutes, by the time we reach the twelfth floor, I am on edge. I walk briskly to the sitting room, turning on the TV. I stand there, breath bated, until they flash the trio still walking in the woods, all of them very much alive. Relief floods my senses and I can briefly relax again. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to turn the TV off.

Peeta and I eat dinner there, on the couch in the sitting room, and then change into comfortable lounge clothes. We continue to watch the Quell, but not much is happening. The Careers are still out cold, though their chests are slowly rising and falling, so it is clear that they are all still alive. The cameras pan back to Prim, Annella, and Paul. By this point, they have explored acres of the forest and have settled on a spot to camp. Their temporary shelter is being constructed, Paul is starting a fire, and they have broken out a bit of the food that they had collected in the Cornucopia. I shake my head- Prim should already have set a snare by now-they shouldn't be relying on that food so soon. With the cold environment, she is already at a disadvantage with less fat- she will need it in her diet. I sigh- she'll probably realize that she needs to resort to killing game only after she has dipped to a dangerously low weight. The cameras show the other tributes, too- Jack, Mouseface, and Copper walking towards (thankfully) the same patch of woods; the Seeder look-alike, her district partner, and a couple of others still on their metal circles. Surely at least half of them unable to get to fire won't survive the night.

Things briefly get intriguing when the Careers begin to come to- interestingly enough the cattle prod had a similar effect on all of them; they all begin regaining consciousness at roughly the same time. But once they wake up, they make the unanimous decision not to hunt anymore this evening. Furious at the other half of the alliance, yes, but they are also hindered by their lack of supplies- a fact that they only just discover as they are about to head out. But when they realize how little food they have, that their entire stockpile had essentially been picked over, even they are smart enough to realize that it probably won't be the best idea to go traipsing around the woods (several miles away) at night. After that, the Careers begin the mundane tasks of rekindling their fire and taking stock of their inventory before drifting off to sleep.

As I continue to watch without much happening, and thinking that I will probably just nap out on this couch without shutting the TV off, Peeta and I settle in. I get my warmest socks and he grabs a flannel blanket- it's almost as though watching such a cold environment has made the Training Center drop a few degrees. On the screen, Jack, Mouseface, and Copper are building a fire on the outer edges of the woods and setting up camp- so we can breathe a sigh of relief that the surviving alliance won't spend the night freezing to death. Peeta and I are warming up, too- we began the evening sitting attentively, but as it wore on we started snuggling under the blanket. I don't have to feel guilty about spending every night with Peeta now- my sister is gone, there is no one else there to compete for my attention. And after spending most every evening with Prim, I realize now how much I've missed this type of contact. I cling to Peeta like a drowning girl would a life preserver.

Later that night, after the tributes are all asleep, after they've played the Anthem and they've flashed on the screen the fatalities- eight in all, including three alliance members- I rest my head comfortably on Peeta's chest. He suggests that we go to bed- one bed or two, whatever I want, he says. I shake my head adamantly.

"No, Peeta, I'm staying right here, on this couch, and if something happens on TV, then I'll be able to see it right away," I say stubbornly.

He sighs. "Even if you do, there won't be anything that you'll be able to do about it," he says calmly back to me.

He has a point, but he has hit a nerve- this situation is killing me. My emotions are running so high- anxiety, frustration, helplessness. The feeling that I can't do a thing to help my sister, or the rest of the alliance for that matter. I would a million times prefer to go back into the arena than to have to feel this way- because I have no control right now. My emotions, once again, start to bubble over, and my bottom lip wavers as tears threaten to gather in my eyes.

Peeta wraps his arms around me, rolls over, and gently begins softly stroking my hair. We are lying on our sides facing each other- me looking towards the TV, of course. "Sshhhh," he whispers calmly, "You did so much for her, Katniss. Remember how grateful she was to you at her interview? I know you have a hard time seeing it, but you did as much for her as anyone could possibly ask. Now you just have to let it go, and have faith that she'll come back to you." He sounds so reassuring.

He's right- as usual- and once again he communicates though his words perfectly. I nod, blinking to hold back the tears, then close my eyes altogether. I gently hold the back of his neck and pull him towards me, holding his torso flush against mine, putting my face near his, needing the closeness.

After a few seconds, I notice something. Peeta's breathing has shifted, gotten really shallow, rapid. There are no sounds coming from the TV except some owls in the distance; I tune it out. A couple of moments later, eyes still closed and when I least expect it, I find his lips on mine, gently kissing me.

I pull away, eyes opening in surprise, looking at him. He looks ashamed, cheeks flushing bright red. "I….I'm sorry," he whispers. "It's just….being this close to you like this makes me… really want to kiss you, that's all. Especially after, um… the training scores." He's clearly referring to the night where we kissed on the couch for a couple hours. For once, his words don't sound quite so polished.

That doesn't matter. Inexplicably, despite all the reasons- Prim, the Quell, the Capitol, the rebellion- that could justify me pushing Peeta away, I find, for the moment, that I only want him closer. Could it be because saying good-bye to Prim early this morning left a gaping hole in my heart, one that I'm trying desperately to fill? Maybe. Could it be because even though I feel powerless to control anything in the arena, deep down a part of me knows that I have some power over Peeta, that I could probably control him if I wanted to? Absolutely. Is it selfish? Undeniably. But somehow, I don't think that Peeta will complain, which makes it okay in my mind. This time, I kiss him. And there is nothing gentle about it.

To be able to channel all of my emotions at once- my frustration and desperation and nervousness and anxiety- into something that I can actually do, actually control, like a kiss- feels _amazing_. And having a guy like Peeta to receive it- sweet, handsome, who I know cares for me, loves me, _wants_ me even, feels even better. I pull him roughly to me, running my hands through his hair, lightly scratching his head. I reach my hands up the back of his T-shirt to explore his body- his back; his broad, stocky shoulders; I even move them over his boxer shorts and feel his butt- something I've always wanted to do but never had the nerve. Well, I have it now. I kiss him roughly, using my tongue, using my teeth- nibbling his lip, moving my mouth down to his neck and gently sucking, making him moan with pleasure. I push him onto his back, pinning his wrists with my arms, then swing my leg so that I can roll on top of him, kissing him again, pressing my chest to his, straddling his hips. It's then when I feel something completely foreign, yet utterly unmistakable, pressing back against me.

Peeta looks excited. His mouth is open, his cheeks are rosy, his eyes are sparkling- this isn't new. But Peeta _is_ excited,which is. I have never been so blatantly confronted with his sexual arousal before- with anyone's, actually- and I have absolutely no idea how to deal with it. I know I thought that he wanted me, but I've never actually been forced to understand exactly to what extent. Sheer panic overtakes me, followed quickly by humiliation- and some regret. I have no idea what I'm doing. And maybe the reasons that I had for kissing Peeta aren't good enough- especially if I could get him to react that way. Though my power trip is satisfied, I now feel horribly guilty. I roll off of him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, mortified. "I'm so sorry. I guess-" I wait for a second as the humiliation keeps growing, "I guess- I just, um, need a little time to build up to all of this."

Peeta's reaction surprises me- he laughs. "No need to apologize, 'Girl who just set me on fire'." He grins at me and rolls onto his side, facing me again. His expression turns serious as he cups my face in one of his hands. "I'm serious though. I don't want to rush you into anything. We're getting married in a couple of weeks. We have a whole lifetime to work up to things, if you decide that you want me around that long." He grins again, and his blue eyes are shining, but vulnerability creeps into his voice.

The mention of our wedding date makes me think about the end of the Quell, and the associated heartbreak sure to accompany it. But this isn't the time to discuss it. I want to reassure him somehow. I kiss him softly on the lips and reply, "Sounds good to me."

I then pull him close for a hug. As my arms go around him, I find that my desperation is still there. I squeeze him extra hard, then whisper, "Please don't leave me here alone tonight."

Peeta slowly shakes his head. "I wouldn't dare." He reaches across and strokes my hair. We lay together in the dark, in the quiet- even the owls are silent now. I manage to drift off for a couple of hours.

But we are both suddenly awoken by sounds on the TV. Cracking branches due to an avalanche.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29:

It was almost as if the Gamemakers had molded a mountain out of the arena terrain overnight- because the camera angles up to this point showed only a flat landscape. Yet, sure enough, on the TV, the snow is starting to catapult down the side of this new mountain towards- what else?- the forest where the alliance has set up camp.

My eyes shoot open, heart rate accelerating. All thoughts of sleep disappear. I am torn on what to do next- while I want to run to Effie and Haymitch, make sure that they have lined up an appropriate gift for Prim and the rest of the alliance to use to survive this new catastrophe, once again my eyes are transfixed on the TV screen. Peeta, the Godsend that he is, seems to understand my position without asking. Knowing that Paavo is likely safe in the Cornucopia, Peeta leaps up and dashes out of the room, presumably to check up on the other District 12 mentors, make sure they're not asleep.

This whole situation reeks of President Snow's vengeance. I glance at the nearest clock- it is after three in the morning. After the bloodiest day of the games, the Gamemakers have almost always let the tributes recover overnight before springing something new on them. Surely this new twist is catching even viewers by surprise- I doubt as many people in the Capitol are even watching. So why even do it, if not to try and put someone specific at a disadvantage?

If there is anything to be thankful for in this scenario, it's that the avalanche seems to be building momentum rather slowly, and the area of the forest where Prim, Annella, and Paul have set up camp is still quite a ways away, so unless they are deaf, they should have a good amount of warning. Maybe the Gamemakers weren't able to construct their mountain any closer. Still- the avalanche is going to be huge, and the tributes are right in its path.

Peeta returns with Effie, who tells us Haymitch is still at the Capitol wagering bar but assures us that he is awake and actively pursuing sponsors. I'll believe that when I see it. I take off in a full sprint towards the elevator, Peeta and Effie racing behind me.

When I arrive back at the bar, scouring the seats for Haymitch, I realize that I am dead wrong. It is every bit as crowded here now as it was when the Quell began, and the people are as lively as ever. Waitresses bring out delicious Capitol snacks and all kinds of alcohol, including little shotglasses filled with a luminescent-green liquid. People are chanting and screaming at the TV, deliriously happy, and waving money at the bet-takers. The flashbulbs with the tributes' odds are changing even now, in what is supposed to be the dead of night.

Haymitch is chatting it up with some guy at the end of the bar when I approach him in an almost murderous rage. How can he be so blasé about everything when my sister's life is on the line? A quick glance at the TV reveals that the avalanche is getting bigger, moving faster, but is still a little ways away from Prim. Still- the time to do something is fast dwindling.

Haymitch preemptively starts talking as he sees the expression on my face, keeping me from chewing him out. "I see you're up, sweetheart. I'd like to take a moment to introduce you to someone. This is Armondo Valentine. He's a very distinguished citizen of the Capitol- and he really wanted to meet you. He's considering sponsoring your sister." His glance at me is full of innuendo. _Charm him. For your sister's sake._ I then realize Haymitch has actually been hard at work. Only what in the world am I going to say to this guy?

I glance over at Armondo- and am a tad disgusted. He is in his fifties, bespectacled, fat, and very creepy- he is looking at me like no man in his fifties should look at a seventeen-year old, in my opinion. He reaches out his hand and I hesitantly shake it. Though I send pleading glances to Haymitch to oversee the conversation, he quickly leaves us alone as he escapes to the other end of the bar.

"So," Armondo drawls as soon as Haymitch is out of earshot, "let me buy you a drink."

"I don't drink alcohol," I say flatly. I think back to the hangover I felt the morning after the Reading of the Card. No thank you, never again.

"I never said it had to be alcohol," Armondo replies, looking me up and down. "Perhaps something….else," he signals to the nearest waitress to bring him two more of whatever he had last.

I feel violated, and this guy hasn't even touched me. What a pervert. At that moment, I see that Peeta is lingering nearby, making sure I'm okay- I shoot him a glance of relief, but he is smart enough to keep his distance. I also look at the TV screen- thankfully, by this time, the alliance members have awoken as well and are frantically trying to pack up and salvage their most important supplies. They still haven't attempted to escape, though. From this perspective, I can understand why- it's futile, they can't run far enough, fast enough, away. They won't escape. But I wonder what the tributes can actually see of what is about to hit them.

Two shotglasses full of the green liquid appear before Armondo and I. He takes them off the waitress's tray and offers one to me.

"What's that?" I ask suspiciously.

"Just a little beverage to enhance your Quell-watching experience," Armondo says with a grin.

I realize I can't be unreceptive here- not with my sister depending on me, depending on sponsorship. I change my tone, trying to intermingle my curiosity with a pleasant demeanor rather than a hostile one. "What does it do?" I ask, forcing softness into my voice.

"Well, it keeps you awake, first of all," Armondo explains, gesturing around him. "For days, with enough of it. How else do you think that people around here can enjoy the Games for so long?"

Unlike the other liquid that the Capitol has produced for its citizens, this one is ingenious. Not have to sleep? I don't need further convincing- I tilt my head back and pour the syrupy liquid down my throat. "Thank you," I say to Armondo sweetly, tipping my empty shotglass to him.

Immediately after I take the drink, I look at the TV again- and I want to scream, jump up and down, because one of the tributes had the suggestion to climb the thickest tree, and Prim is quickly scurrying up the side, leading the other two. The avalanche is closing in, though. I find I can't peel my eyes away.

"Just be careful," Armondo says sweetly, my eyes still locked on the TV. "The drink can have side effects, especially for those that aren't used to it. It can make people….friendlier, shall we say," he puts his arm around me, gesturing around the bar.

Now that he mentions it, the crowd at the bar does seem especially friendly, at least for a bunch of gamblers, some of whom are surely losing. I quickly glance around before putting my eyes back on the TV. The avalanche is closing in, clearing some of the smaller surrounding trees, cracking the branches below where Prim, Annella, and Paul cling. Paul is the lowest of the three- though he's tallest, he's also the heaviest by far and least sturdy in the air- and he has the sled hanging from his waist on a rope, an additional burden.

I can already begin to feel the liquid's effects- I feel relaxed, much like the alcohol, yet utterly alert- but I am lucid enough to decipher what Armondo wants- he wants me to flirt with him, come on to him. For my sister, I will do it, I will do anything.

But there is no time, because the level of snow has risen, and is still moving at a furious pace. It catches the sled dangling from Paul's rope, and without struggle or fanfare, it pulls him under and away. Prim and Annella are powerless to stop the force, and don't try- they just scream and cry and cling to the trunk of the tree, hugging it, as the snow rises close to them, and pulls on the tree, but then gradually slows, slows its movement, finally stopping. Paul is gone, and they have lost their most powerful alliance member- and their sled, and the axe, and a lot of their food. How are they even going to get down? Can Annella's sponsors come through again? Maybe, but I can't rely on that. I'm going to have to do something myself.

I can't wait for the effects of the liquid to fully kick in to schmooze up to Armondo. Somehow, I'm going to have to fake it. Paul is dead; the cannon blasts. But I can't focus on that. I have to shake it off, think of Prim.

"I'm feeling better already," I say. His arm is still around my shoulders; I slip mine around his waist. "Are you?"

Armondo raises an eyebrow at my contact with him. "I'm starting to," he replies. "But not quite yet."

I pause. I have no time to be subtle here. I go for bluntness. "What will it take? To make you feel good enough to want to sponsor my sister?"

Armondo doesn't hesitate. "A kiss."

I nod brusquely, not the least bit surprised- I could have predicted it as soon as Haymitch introduced us. The Capitol liquid hasn't made Armondo any better-looking, but I already feel more relaxed, and Prim having a rich sponsor will make it all worth it. I lean my face in and close my eyes, going in for the kiss but otherwise trying to stay as far away from Armondo as possible.

Armondo's wet, sloppy lips and facial hair make it impossible for me to pretend that I am kissing Peeta, but I shut all emotion off and try to get through it. Armondo kisses me roughly, pulling me smack up against him, even though his foul alcohol breath, sweaty body, and overall grossness make me want to run in the other direction. I might feel more relaxed, but the drink certainly hasn't made me delusional. When he roughly gropes my breast and pinches my butt, no amount of that green liquid will convince me that this is acceptable. I push him away. Though I am briefly tempted to attack him, scream at him, I manage to hold myself back, bite my tongue. I simply raise my eyebrow as if to say 'is that enough?' Armondo nods and shouts to Haymitch, signaling to him, holding out the fingers in his one hand. Four. Four what? Hundred? Thousand? Hundred Thousand? It doesn't matter. Haymitch, though across the bar, nods and quickly communicates to someone at the bar, a bet-taker of some sort, who will probably communicate his request to a Gamemaker.

Not a moment too soon. Because the second that Armondo turns around, Peeta punches him in the face.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Armondo falls to the ground, bleeding profusely from his nose, screaming obscenities. Effie just stares at Peeta, openmouthed. I don't think I've ever seen Haymitch run so fast- but a second later, he closes in on us. He looks furious.

"You idiot, get out of here!" he screams at Peeta. He gestures to me. "Take her with you." He begins attending to Armondo on the floor, apologizing and generally sucking up.

Peeta takes my hand with his non-bloodied one. Though he was just angrily taking out his aggression, his grasp is gentle, and he slowly leads me back to the elevator. He is silent, but breathing heavily. We walk down to the sitting room without speaking and await our fate with Haymitch. The TV is still on, and we watch.

Prim and Annella have just received another silver parachute- so at least one of them was able to get sponsors, I'm guessing Prim, hoping Prim, after everything that just happened. The parachute carries a rather large item this time- a replacement sled, though not as large as the first one, just big enough to get the job done. Prim and Annella squeeze on it together and ride out of the remains of the piled snow back towards solid ground.

The camera pans to the other half of the alliance- Jack, Mouseface, and Copper. Since the three of them had set up camp so near the edge of the forest, the avalanche had almost missed them entirely. All they had to do was quickly gather their stuff, move it a few hundred yards down, and resettle as they watched the natural disaster pass by. Interestingly, they now look like they are in a similar area of the forest as Prim and Annella.

The camera flashes to the Cornucopia- where Nutmeg is taking the first shift while the others sleep. She looks bored. Obviously, this latest Gamemaker incident didn't even register a blip on the Careers' radar.

Haymitch bursts through the door of the sitting room, seething. He goes straight for Peeta.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" Haymitch screams at him.

"I could ask you the same question," Peeta retorts icily. They are now nose-to-nose.

"I was trying to get Prim sponsors," Haymitch replies, "and she certainly won't have any more financial assistance from Armondo Valentine now. He said your actions are unforgivable."

"The man is a sicko!" Peeta exclaims, raising his voice. "Did you even see him violate Katniss? Huh?"

Haymitch shrugs. "He just wanted to cop his feel and to feel better about himself for a minute before dropping all of his cash to rescue her sister. I feel kinda bad for him actually."

Peeta shakes his head. "That's disgusting. I can't believe you would sic that psycho on her. Besides," he adds, "Prim can get other sponsors."

Haymitch shakes his head back at him. "You have no idea how this works, do you son? It took Armondo plus over fifteen other sponsors to put in enough money for the sled. If you think that the items that they sell for the Games, especially the Quell, are cheap enough for just a couple of people, you're completely delusional. She needs all the help she can get." He backs off, turns away.

The fluorescent-green liquid must really be in my system now. Though Peeta and Haymitch have both just pointed out excellent reasons why I should be insanely angry- at both of them equally- I've managed to ignore them. Haymitch is willing to do anything to get Prim sponsors! And Peeta will stick up for me, fight for me, and hurt anyone that hurts me. I couldn't be luckier than to have these two men in my life. Haymitch has been almost like another dad to me- when he's sober. And Peeta- well, I couldn't ask for a better fiancée. I speak up.

"Guys! Please, stop fighting. I appreciate what you were both trying to do here. Haymitch- thank you for doing your best for Prim. She got her sled; hopefully Annella's sponsors can pull in the next thing that they need. Peeta- thank you for watching out for me. I know you did what you did just because you care. You both are the greatest." I have a stupid grin on my face. Haymitch and Peeta both look at me as if I've gone off the deep end, but I am the distraction that they need to stop focusing on each other.

Haymitch announces, "Well, now I have extra work to do at the bar. Just stay out of my way, will you?" before he turns around and exits, slamming the door behind him, leaving Peeta and I alone in the sitting room.

We continue to watch the Games, and I am amazed at this wondrous green drink. Peeta is struggling to stay awake after such an exhausting day followed by so little sleep, but I am feeling completely relaxed but alert, with no need to rest. We sit on the couch initially, but Peeta begins to slump over with tiredness, and I suggest he lie down on his back and rest his head on my lap. He agrees gratefully, and I catch him looking up at me occasionally as I watch the Quell.

I allow myself to start running my fingers through his hair, and occasionally glance down to watch his beautiful long eyelashes flutter as he struggles to remain awake. I am overcome with tenderness towards the boy with the bread. He's been so good to me. I lean down and nuzzle him, kissing him on the cheek.

Peeta, eyes still closed, a little smile on his face, says softly to me, "I punched Armondo out more than just because I care, you know."

I know. I nod. "I love you, too, Peeta." I kiss him softly on the lips.

Once again, I am not quite prepared for Peeta's reaction. His face begins to crumple and his eyes glass over, filling with tears. I am astonished that he would get so emotional before I realize that I've never said those words to him before- at least, not to just him- any reference I made to loving Peeta was in front of a Capitol audience, saying words like love hoping to convince _them_ that they were true, not Peeta. But lately, despite the contradicting emotions that he still elicits in me, I know that the words are sincere. And surely Peeta must have sensed that I felt this way?

Peeta manages to control himself, not cry, but has to take several deep breaths in order to do so. He doesn't speak for what seems like an eternity. And when he finally does, his words surprise me. He looks at me intensely, blue eyes bright.

"I wish that you didn't need some mysterious green drink to tell me that. But I love you, too, Katniss- more than you'll ever know."

Those are the last words I hear from Peeta before he starts to snore. Of course he can sleep, his brother is safe in the Cornucopia, surrounded by people that consider him an ally, safe in that golden horn from the other cruelties of the arena. I continue to stroke Peeta's hair, hold his head; feel happy that the boy with the bread loves me, but I shift my attention to the TV screen.

Prim and Annella are still crying as they've come to a halt on lower land, saddened at the loss of their alliance member, scared to set up camp anywhere else. They begin wandering aimlessly, in no particular direction, searching for a part of the arena that makes them feel safer. They won't find it.

But their noise, combined with Prim having kept hold of some matches and a torch, igniting some fire to lead them while they walk in the dead of night, have made them stand out like a beacon. A few minutes later they hear calls of their names. "Annella! Prim!" The girls turn around to find Copper, Mouseface, and Jack running towards them.

I grin to myself, thinking a little bit about fate, grateful for a moment that Peeta and I were brought together despite the devastating circumstances upon which it happened. The same thing applies to what I'm seeing on the screen: perhaps if the avalanche had never occurred, the two halves of the alliance would never have found each other- they could have just kept missing each other in the large forest expanse. Then again, maybe I'm just thinking that way because of the green drink.

Regardless, the members of the alliance of the rebelling districts are finally together.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31:

Peeta sleeps; I watch and listen.

I watch as members of the alliance hug each other in relief that they are finally all together. I watch as they pool their resources, setting up a new camp on the forest floor and building a fire. They have a greater chance of surviving an attack by the Careers if they are spotted than making it through the night without one. I watch as they drift off to sleep, snuggling close to one another to keep warm. Jack, the lone boy tribute left, takes the first watch.

I listen as the cannon booms twice. The female tributes from Districts 6 and 10, still on their metal circles, unable to move the rocks from their wall and not receiving any outside help, both succumb to hypothermia. I listen as the Careers awake early the next morning, the crackling of the fire as they prepare a meager breakfast and the grating sound of weapons being sharpened- whether it's for hunting food or tributes is anyone's guess. I listen as the cameras show the tributes in the new alliance awaken a short time later and awkwardly try to start conversations amongst the group. They know next to nothing about each other, have little in common- except perhaps the most important thing possible- the united goal of taking down the Capitol, which is the one thing they can't discuss.

I sit there and gently stroke Peeta's hair as he sleeps; I watch. The entire time I'm viewing the broadcast, it's with sort of an unfocused feeling- I'm just staring at the TV screen, with nothing in particular capturing my attention. That feeling abruptly comes to a halt when a camera shows Prim and Annella in the midst of a whispered conversation.

"I just don't think we can trust him," Annella was saying.

I stiffen to attention. Jack? He had the first watch shift last night- had he done anything untrustworthy? Not that I can recall.

Prim shakes her head. "I think you're wrong, Annella. I know him a lot better than you."

It can't be Jack. They must be talking about Paavo.

"I'm telling you, Jack said that he saw the whole thing with his eyes- he had moved enough of the rock wall to see. Paavo threw his knife right into Joel's heart." Annella chokes back her sobs, shoulders shaking. Prim pulls her in for a hug.

"Shhhh….it's okay. Look, we don't know Jack's motivations, either- who's to say we can trust him fully? We just need to keep our eyes open." Prim sighs. "Look, I know he's my district partner's not particularly friendly- but he's our mole- of course he's going to fake allegiance to them, and he has to make it convincing, or it will never work," Prim tries to reassure her.

Annella can't be consoled. She shakes her head slowly, still bawling. But her anger rises. Her next whisper sounds as ominous as it does sad. "All I have to say, is that if what Jack said is true…." She lets the threat dangle in the air.

"Shhhhh, Shhhhh," Prim continues to hug her, understanding that her words are meaningless.

It's so surreal to be on this side of the cameras- to hear the tributes debate the accuracy of something long since shown to the rest of Panem to be true. Yet what is the truth? We know Paavo's actions, can guess at the motivation inside his mind, but the truth of whether or not he is trustworthy lies within Paavo himself; not likely to be revealed for quite some time.

Or maybe it is. Because when the cameras focus back on the Careers, they are ready to hunt- and the preference for food vs. tributes doesn't appear to be discernible, so I have to assume the latter. Fired up, the Careers remove the rock wall from in front of where the male District 5 tribute still sits on his metal platform. Without hesitation, all five of them unleash their pent-up aggression from last evening on him. The cannon booms again. They seem satisfied with their result, and proceed to march towards the woods. But by the camera angles, they are still a long ways off.

Just then, something important occurs to me. Other than in the first couple of minutes of the Quell, the Gamemakers have not shown either of the tributes from District 11 on the TV screen. If they remain on their metal platforms, having somehow survived the night, the Careers paid no attention to them whatsoever. It leaves me puzzled as to where they are. Surely if they had formulated some sort of escape than it would have been televised? And if they died, wouldn't that have been shown as well? Why have the Careers decided to ignore them- is it possible that the Capitol did have some influence on these tributes? None of this makes sense.

It is late enough in the morning; I nudge Peeta. "Peeta," I whisper, "Why haven't they shown the District 11 tributes since the first few minutes of competition? I don't even know where they are."

Peeta shrugs sleepily. "I don't know," he replies, rolling over, eyes still closed. He briefly opens one, squinting. "Maybe they did something that the Capitol didn't like."

I'll admit it, the thought never occurred to me. However, I don't have much time to dwell on it. The Careers are still heading towards the woods, only now they've picked up their pace.

They surprise me by not wandering aimlessly to try to find the alliance; they first focus on killing game. I think that after breakfast they realized how precarious their food situation has become since Copper, Jack, and Mouseface had picked over the bulk of their food supply. That's the disadvantage of the Cornucopia- as protective as it is, it isn't where the natural resources are- so if you don't have enough provided to you, you need to travel far to find it. But Ruby is dangerous with her spear, and between her and Paavo, they take down a beaver and a showshoe hare.

It takes them quite a while to prepare their game, and they do a bit of a hack job- by my standards, anyway- but after it's cooked the Careers consume it quickly. As soon as they finish, they are on the prowl again- and by the looks of things they have closed to within several hundred yards of the alliance's camp. The good news for the alliance- the Careers are loud, talking obnoxiously, without thought as to where the other tributes might be. Maybe they don't care.

And this delights me. Because if the Careers are smart, they should care. We aren't talking about a lone defenseless tribute; we are talking about a group of five (albeit only one male, but still- Annella has proven herself rather strong) armed with several weapons- a trident and a knife at least. Now the alliance has enough time to hear them coming and implement some kind of game plan- whether it be to ambush them, or simply run and hide. Unfortunately, I don't get to watch any of this strategizing firsthand; the camera stays on the Careers as they approach the alliance's campsite. When they get there, it's deserted.

I sit there, chewing my nails, and my nervousness starts to build. I wake Peeta, feeling suddenly claustrophobic from having him pinned across me. He stirs, and gives me a kiss on the cheek as he sits up, but doesn't distract me further- he just grabs my hand and watches with me.

Silk and Stone begin poking through what's remaining of the supplies; unfortunately for them most anything that they would find particularly valuable, i.e. the food, is missing- the alliance must have taken it with them. I am jittery with anticipation at the alliance's plans. Surely they don't plan to square off- the Careers hold too much of an edge with hand-to-hand combat. Still, being so close to their camp, this may be the alliance's best chance to utilize their home-field advantage.

A sound of rustling branches occurs somewhere off in the distance. In response, Silk, Stone, and Paavo reflexively take off after it. Ruby and Nutmeg ready their weapons, but without a target. A few seconds later, with the heavy hitters properly distracted, this is the alliance's chance to go on the offensive. They do. Out of nowhere, Annella's trident appears whizzing through the air- and lands directly in Ruby's chest- at the same time that Jack tackles Nutmeg from behind with the knife.

Ruby falls to the ground instantly, but Annella goes in anyway- she needs to retrieve her weapon. The cannon fires. Nutmeg and Jack roll around on the ground in a struggle- Nutmeg had dropped her machete in surprise and now they are both fighting for the knife in Jack's hands. Trying to distract Nutmeg somehow, Copper slips in. Desperately wanting to give Jack the advantage, Copper tries to kick Nutmeg as she and Jack are rolling around on the forest floor, but misses as they are moving too fast.

The same voice booms out: "Run! Now!" Prim, the tree-rustler, along with Mouseface, had looped back around, but the boys are hot on their tail. At her words, the alliance stops their attack and takes off in a full sprint- all in all, they are lighter, a bit faster. But Copper, the slowest of the group, starts to lag behind.

And with a backwards glance, Prim now sees, firsthand, Paavo throw his knife in Copper's back.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32:

The Careers stop running when Copper falls to the ground- Paavo needs to get his knife. When he withdraws it, Copper twitches slightly, but then lies still. The Careers then focus on pulling Ruby's spear out of her dead body before the helicopter flies in and picks up her remains. Paavo sees another beaver and quickly kills it. After that- they appear emotionally drained, and pick some berries before heading back to camp with their game, to regroup.

A little while later, when it's clear that the loud voices of the Careers are long gone, the members of the alliance slowly venture out. Jack checks the food supply stowed in the hollow trunk of a tree- they had hidden it from their camp to keep the Careers from taking it, and didn't want it to weigh them down when they were running. Prim slowly approaches Copper lying motionless in the dirt.

"Um, did anyone hear the cannon fire?" she asks quietly. The rest of the alliance shakes their head. That's when Prim quickly squats down and feels for Copper's pulse. Though very faint, it's still distinct. The knife didn't hit her squarely in the spine; it was off to the side a bit, and it didn't go in to the hilt.

Upon the realization that Copper is still alive, Prim's healing instinct kicks in, and she starts quietly giving orders to the rest of the alliance. She tells Jack and Annella to find a source of water- they had been drinking bottled water from the Cornucopia but their supply had quickly dwindled- and she needs to use the rest to wash Copper's wound off. They head off in a direction that the group had not yet explored. Mouseface remains and plays the role of healer's aide as Prim tends to Copper's gaping wound.

A couple of hours later, after Prim and Mouseface had washed, disinfected, and bandaged Copper's back, using nothing but the plants Prim had collected, Jack and Annella return to the group, triumphant. Annella is carrying several salmon and pike on her trident. "The river isn't far," she says, nodding her head towards the direction from which they came. "I speared them myself," she said proudly, waving her weapon. She lowers her voice at the sight of Copper's body. "Is….she going to be okay?" Copper is stationary and unconscious.

Prim shrugs. "I don't know," she says, "but I've done all I can. I've cleaned her back thoroughly, used _Nerium Oleander _andEucalyptus to disinfect her wound, and used some moss and tape I found in the Cornucopia to bandage her up. I think she just needs rest and water now. I can have her chew on what seems to be a Capitol-bred cold-weather _Papaver somniferum_ plant to treat her pain when she wakes up." The alliance nods, impressed, and carries Copper, along with the rest of the food, back to their camp.

I am in awe at my sister's healing- Copper could have died. Instead, she is gently laid out near the fire back at camp, recovering peacefully- you can see her chest slowly rise and fall as she breathes deeply. The alliance, now fully awake and without the imminent threat of the Careers, can take stock of their inventory, do chores around the campsite, and hunt. They eat a hearty breakfast of fish.

Even though it's not even lunchtime, I hope that this is the end of the violence for at least a little while. There have already been five deaths so far- for the second day, this is a substantial number. But one never knows in the Games. For once, I feel like stepping away from the TV screen for a little bit. After everything that's happened in the past twenty-five hours, if the Gamemakers decide that they need the alliance to suffer anymore before dinner, I'm likely to go crazy anyway.

I look at Peeta, eyebrow cocked. "So," I begin, "Now that all of that just happened I need to try and forget about this stuff for the next couple of hours if I want to keep sane. Any ideas?"

Peeta's eyes light up, and he gives me a devilish grin. "A few," he replies. He reaches for the remote, and for the first time since the sound of the gong, the input I received from the Games is completely severed as he shuts the TV off. The silence is deafening. He then leans over and kisses me.

The next few hours go by like the drop of a hat.

* * *

Later that afternoon, we head back down to the Capitol wagering bar to see Haymitch. Peeta says he's ready to make nice and we're eager to check in on his progress with the sponsors, start watching the Quell again. I glance over at Peeta as we are headed down the elevator, and he looks as happy as I've ever seen him. My cheeks are still flushed from making out.

It was a little weird at first, kissing him again after what happened last night. Things have irrevocably changed- I can no longer make out with him without thinking about the fact that Peeta definitely hopes for more than what we are currently doing. Blissfully unaware of this until last night, now that my eyes are opened to it, I find myself wondering just what exactly what I want from him in return- I had never really stopped to consider it before. I think about the honeymoon suite, the heart-shaped lock- obviously the Capitol would support us having sex pretty much as soon as possible- if for no other reason than that it would increase our chances of conceiving a child that could then become their pawn, that they could use as a symbol against the rebellion. But one thing's clear to me now- Peeta will do whatever I'm willing to do- it's up to me to establish the boundaries. Which is starting to get increasingly complicated as kissing him has changed so much the more we do it. It's a little hard to believe now that I used to kiss him just for the sake of the cameras, and not for the kissing itself- because wow. It has become pretty spectacular lately.

When we finally spot Haymitch, he is sitting at the bar with a row of shots lined up beneath him- half liquor, and half of whatever that glowing green liquid is, alternating throughout. After taking a shot of one, he immediately makes sure to follow it up with the other. I laugh as Peeta and I approach and sit beside him.

"Can't decide?" I ask teasingly.

"No, they sort of balance each other out," Haymitch mumbles. "The alcohol tires me out; the green stuff keeps me up. And both of them make me feel better."

I can't argue with him. But I'm not drinking that green stuff again. Staying up all night to watch the Games was nice, but I don't want to keep doing that to myself- especially since I feel like I'm crashing now. Plus, I don't like feeling out of control- because it can hurt other people. Peeta being upset after I told him I love him is a perfect example of that. I do, but he didn't need to hear it that way. Then again, I'm not sure when I ever would have felt comfortable saying it otherwise.

When Haymitch looks up and sees that Peeta is present as well, he lets out a fairly typical grunt.

"Look, I'm sorry about overreacting the way that I did," Peeta begins. "I shouldn't have gotten so worked up."

Haymitch doesn't look up at him at first, just takes another drink. "Meh," he grumbles. But then he softens, meets Peeta's eye, puts his hand on Peeta's shoulder. "I know why you did, kid. You don't need to say anything else about it." He gives Peeta a knowing look, eyes sparkling a moment, before falling silent again.

"Ahem," I say to alert the boys to my presence, in case they had forgotten that I was standing right there, but more importantly to interrupt, change the subject. "Any news on- you know-," I lower my voice to a whisper, "the sponsorships for Prim? And the plan for the alliance?"

Haymitch grunts again. "No good news. I've spoken with a couple potential sponsors in the last few hours- people like that Prim was able to save Copper; that helped her. But Armondo's obviously spoken with a couple of his high-powered friends, too; they won't talk to me at all now. So it's so-so." Haymitch glances around a minute before whispering back to me. "As far as your other question goes, things are starting to fall apart," he begins frantically. "The District 4 mentors, including Finnick Odair, won't even talk to me after what Paavo pulled. I just spoke with Johanna Mason in District 7, and she said that, and um, don't flip out now, but that if things go according to plan, when the rebel armies go to break the tributes out of the arena, they won't risk anything for the ones from District 12- they could end up just leaving them there."

"What?" I nearly fall off of my chair. "How- how- could they do that to them?"

Haymitch snorts. "C'mon, sweetheart. Look, District 12 isn't even really rebelling; the only reason I was able to get us involved in this alliance was to convince the other district mentors that we wanted to do something too, that they could trust us. You really think they can trust the District 12 tributes now? You think the rebels from Districts 3 and 4 are going to risk their lives for Paavo, when no one even from District 12 is? Gimme a break." Haymitch sneers at me.

I try to swallow this awful news, but try to rationalize that it won't matter much as long as the alliance sticks together; surely if they're lowering a rope for Annella they'll let Prim jump on, too? How much more risk could she possibly be?

Haymitch takes another drink. "Not that it really matters anyway," he mumbles.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Peeta and I ask in unison.

Haymitch shrugs. "The District 7 rebels have lost their hold in the town square; the Captiol has sent a ton of Peacekeepers out to that district, and to Districts 8 and 11. We're going to lose rebel control of those districts soon- we'll be lucky if they last the day. I don't think they're going to have the forces to pull an 'arena-break' off."

Something jars in my memory. "Haymitch," I whisper to him, "what happened to the tributes from District 11? Why haven't they been shown on the TV?"

Haymitch scoffs. "Dead."

"Dead? How do you know? Did you see them die?"

In response, Haymitch pulls a photo from his jacket pocket. "I know a guy in the control room pretty well. Apparently their stylists somehow slipped the tributes black markers."

He shows us the picture. On the left half is the male tribute; on the right the female Seeder look-alike. They are both sprawled out on their metal circles, stiff, pallid, frozen to death. And on both of their torsos, clearly block-printed in huge black letters on their pale blue jackets, are the words 'FUCK THE CAPITOL'.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33:

I feel the emotion rise up inside of me as I stare at the picture. All of my thoughts and feelings from the past two years- playing the Games, mentoring Prim, going through the Quell- are pretty accurately summarized in those few words. But they are words I would never in a million years have had the courage to say aloud, or write down.

I shake my head in disbelief. "They were on our side," I whisper sadly. "If only the alliance had known."

Haymitch ducks his head, in sort of a tribute, remembrance. "Yeah." He looks directly at me now. "They're like us in some ways. They wanted to rebel, but their District hadn't gotten there quite yet. You can see why that's difficult to trust, right? And they didn't hurt a soul."

I get his point. "It's not the same." I give Peeta a sidelong glance. "Um…._they're_ not the same- our two tributes. As each other, I mean." Prim and Paavo differ in just about every way imaginable- except that they are both linked through Peeta and I. I glance back at Peeta, and while he looks hurt, he can't deny what I just said. Paavo is determined, unscrupulous. Prim is- well, I know I'm biased, but she's the picture of naiveté and innocence. Coincidentally, the camera flashes on Prim as I'm thinking of her; she is checking on Copper at their camp, gently pulling off the moss to examine her wound.

"See?" I say, as if to prove my point. "Prim is helping to revive the District 3 tribute. That should count for something."

Haymitch grunts. "Maybe it does. But it doesn't offset what Paavo did, unfortunately." He glances at Peeta, too, who slumps down further into his chair.

Thoroughly discouraged from the news Haymitch just dropped on us, Peeta and I have no desire to continue to hang out in the wagering bar with him. So we retreat back to the twelfth floor of the Training Center, back to the couch. We snuggle up and I rest my head on Peeta's chest as we watch more of the Quell.

The evening passes uneventfully in the arena. The Careers, after a small dinner of a single beaver split between the four of them, ready their packs to go hunting in the woods at daybreak. They seem a little more subdued, however, after having lost one of their own. The alliance is bundled up in their makeshift tent; the fire is roaring, and they are eating dinner comprised of – what else? – fish that Annella caught, supplemented by some food from the Cornucopia, like granola bars. I shake my head- they are relying on that Cornucopia food too heavily- it will be gone in the next couple of days if they don't use it more sparingly. Then again, since there have already been fifteen deaths in the arena, perhaps banking on the fact that they won't be there that much longer anyway isn't all that unwise.

As the tributes settle in for the night, Peeta and I kiss some more. You would think that the circumstances would make me want to stay away from him- first of all, Peeta and I being together is something that the Capitol is pushing for, so inherently I should want to rebel against it. More importantly, however, his brother is affecting Prim's chances in the arena- to survive, to ultimately be rescued. But, I rationalize, Prim has already defied the odds in my opinion, and the Games are far from over. And it would be unfair to punish the boy with the bread- who has done everything in his control to save me, in so many ways, because of who he's related to. I think of the highlights of last year's Games, and everything he's done for me since then. Peeta messed up with Armondo, but his heart was in the right place- and given how disgusting Armondo was, it was easy to forgive. I kiss him with urgency.

But it doesn't last long this time. Because as we're kissing, and the tributes are getting ready to go to sleep, the Gamemakers get ready to set in motion the alliance's next group of obstacles. And they're huge.

Muttations.

Peeta and I are between kisses as one flashes on the TV screen, and out of the corner of my half-closed eye I happen to see it. I gasp, eyes shooting open, and immediately pull away. I point to the TV, shaking my head, speechless. After Peeta turns his head around and looks in the same direction that I am, he curses under his breath.

The muttations look like mountain lions. Which makes sense I guess, because as of less than twenty-four hours ago the arena has a mountain. They remind me a lot of last year's muttations- human-like, with bright eyes- though whether they are made up of the fallen tributes is not yet readily apparent. Unlike last year, I can view them close-up without worry - but it certainly doesn't seem like that to me, I feel paralyzed with fear, and I can't look at the screen for more than a second or two. My heart is palpitating and my breathing erratic; I am so scared that I feel like I am about to pass out. Though this time the fear isn't for me- it's for Prim.

The muttations are caged together at the top of the mountain before they are released with a flourish. They take off dashing down the mountain, snarling and growling.

Again, though, the campsite is a good distance away, and the muttations are making a lot of noise. The alliance will have fair warning. I wonder how the Gamemakers feel about the success rate of these tactics; they would probably be more effective, more lethal, if who they're attacking had no warning signs at all. Then again, that wouldn't make for very dramatic TV.

Jack, who is on watch outside, hears the rustling first, twigs cracking, and is instantly at attention. He whispers frantically inside of the tent. "Something's coming right towards us! We have to get away, NOW. Get out, go!"

Prim, Annella, and Mouseface come scrambling out of the shelter. As soon as they do, they can better hear the sounds Jack is referring to- and their eyes bulge with panic, but only for a moment.

"To the trees!" Prim shouts loudly for her, which isn't very loud. But it's loud enough, and the other girls understand. They all take off.

I can't tell you how grateful I am at that moment that I spent so much time with Prim climbing trees at the end of our training. The drills I made her do with climbing the bases of tree trunks rapidly especially pay off- because she is in a safe place in her tree before the muttations are even seen on the same TV screen. Mouseface, too- she is wiry and light. Annella is a little slower, but manages to be out of reach just as the muttations leap into the air towards her tree- they bang into the trunk just below her, and hit the ground hard. She heaves a sigh of relief as they harmlessly continue to growl from below. But for Jack, who had gone back into the tent and for a moment and is only just now running towards a tree, they are exponentially more dangerous.

Jack is quick- but so are the mountain lions. There are four of them in all, and three of them turn from Annella's tree trunk to head after him. As I look more closely at their bodies, I see that one of the mountain lions is exceedingly long in length- and I realize that they must be the dead tributes after all- the long one looks exactly like Paul. I look closer, paying much more attention than I did when they were first shown- and realize that the other three closely resemble Ohm, Joel, and Elena. _Members of the alliance._ I shiver. My first thought- _the Capitol somehow knows what they're up to_._ And now they're using them against each other._ I hope to God that I am wrong.

Jack reaches the base of his tree safely- he didn't have as far to travel- and his strong arms pull him quickly upwards, but the mountain lions are right on his tail. As he scampers up the side of the trunk, the three lions lunge and pitch themselves into the air, baring their teeth. The Paul-looking one, with its length and vertical leap, gets the highest, high enough to sink its teeth into Jack's thigh. He screams in agony as gravity pulls the muttation- along with a substantial portion of his leg flesh- away from him.

The camera pans to Annella looking at Prim, who is in the adjacent tree. Her eyes are teary. "You'll be able to fix him up, won't you, Prim?" she asks her desperately.

"I don't know, I hope so," Prim replies. She hesitates a second. "Copper didn't get out, did she?"

Annella shakes her head no. And then she points downward, where the muttations have all converged on the alliance's campsite. The members still alive are forced to watch helplessly from above as muttations from the alliance's past dive into their shelter and literally tear Copper apart.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34:

I can't sleep much that night. Though Peeta has securely wrapped his arms around me on the sitting room couch, and we had turned the TV off- I am haunted by visions of muttations. The ones from this year doing what they did to Copper, the ones from last year with Cato. These events are quite possibly the most violent thing I witnessed in all of the Games, including the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

Annella didn't have time to grab her trident before dashing up the tree. Prim already had her knife on her, and she threw it towards the muttations, but it landed harmlessly in the ground, well away from where she was aiming. The mauling continued for a good couple of hours before the cannon finally boomed and the Gamemakers called off the muttations, who disappeared back towards the mountain. What a horrible vision- which I can see clearly even when my eyes are closed. What's the point? I open them again.

Frustrated, I turn the TV back on, though it isn't showing much. The alliance is back at their campsite, Jack still crying in pain, and Prim is attending to his leg. Without much light to go by, she is pretty limited by what she can see. She settles for giving it a once-over, cleaning and bandaging it tightly, and administering something for his pain. While it's kicking in, Jack screams, and his cries resonate in my thoughts for the rest of the night. But whatever it was that Prim gave him was strong- and Jack is eventually knocked out.

I fall back asleep after a while, but nightmares with screaming and muttations pervade my subconscious.

The next morning, the cameras focus on the beginning of Prim's thorough healing efforts toward Jack's leg, far superior to my efforts with Peeta. I watch on in interest, seeing what I can learn- not that I ever hope or anticipate needing to do that again. But before I can take too many mental notes, the camera shifts again- to the Careers heading towards the forest.

I sigh. Great. Is this going to be another confrontation? As the Careers enter the woods, I'm not sure. But they head off in a different direction from the alliance's camp, so at least for the moment, it doesn't seem to be. The lack of food hits bodies like Paavo and Stone first- they look weak and drained, and they appear for the time being to be focused on hunting food, not people. Without Ruby and her spear, though, their hunting efforts are severely compromised- Silk and Nutmeg are fantastic with machetes, but game doesn't typically approach that closely. They decide partially on a two-pronged approach- Stone is a master at throwing rocks, which can temporarily daze or incapacitate the animal, and Silk and Nutmeg then finish them off- the strategy works well with a lingering bobcat. Still, the Careers are somewhat dependent on Paavo now for their hunting.

Paavo claims that he sees an elk and takes off deeper into the woods; however, as soon as he is out of the Career's line of sight he circles back around towards where the alliance is set up. I sit up straight and elbow a sleeping Peeta in the ribs.

"What the hell is he doing?" I ask Peeta, panicked.

Peeta shrugs. "I don't know," he replies groggily, eyes still closed. "You just woke me up. How would I know?"

I shrug now. "Because he's your brother."

Peeta obligatorily opens his eyes, and we turn back to the TV and watch carefully as Paavo breaks into a sprint towards the alliance's camp. He is lucky that Jack is severely injured and knocked out on drugs and that Annella is water-collecting and spear-fishing with her trident at the river- because I am certain that he would otherwise be dead as soon as he entered their camp. As it stands, however, Prim is still tending to Jack's wounds, and only Mouseface is looking on- who is far too meek to attack.

Paavo approaches slowly, whispering, "Prim!"

Prim looks up at Paavo, conflicted. Rage comingles with hurt in her expression. "What do you want, Paavo?" she asks him curtly. "Now that you've killed off two of our alliance members?"

Paavo looks surprised. "No, I didn't," he replies, sounding confused. "I didn't kill that last one. I purposely missed her vital organs. I'm a much better throw than that- I could have killed her if I wanted to. I just needed to show the Careers that I was serious. I could tell she was still alive when I pulled my knife out, though, and I didn't do anything else. I- I- knew that you could heal her."

Prim gives him another dirty look. "Well, I started to, but she died anyway. The Gamemakers have been hitting us every night with something different out here. The first night was an avalanche; last night it was these awful muttations similar to last year's- they finished her off because she couldn't get away. We haven't had enough rest and we're tired. Like I said- what do you want?"

Paavo's eyes widen with surprise at the alliance's struggles against the Gamemakers themselves- the Careers have obviously experienced none of it. But Prim's voice is accusatory- and he goes on the defensive. "Well, you guys didn't exactly leave us the finest selection of supplies in the Cornucopia," Paavo retorts, "No survival or medical supplies, and we're all starving- there was hardly a shred of food left. And let me guess, you guys have been eating well? Plus, I'm tired, too- you can trust the people you are shacked up with. I can't."

Prim looks down, slightly embarrassed. She clears her throat. "You still haven't answered me."

Paavo nods brusquely. "You're right, and I don't have much time. I need something to take out the Careers. I need to be able to kill all of them, at once. My knife won't do it. If I go to kill one, the others will know, and I'll be a goner."

Prim shrugs. "I don't think we have anything for you, Paavo," she says after a moment. "Just a knife and Annella's trident, and I can promise you she won't give that up, especially not to you."

Paavo looks at Prim, thoughts racing. "If you had one more knife, I'd take you up on it, but two total won't work." He sees that Prim doesn't look any calmer, and he changes tone. "Look, I'm sorry about the girl- Copper was her name? The boy was a necessary sacrifice- I would never have been able to align with the Careers otherwise. Please? Just let me look around for a minute and see what you guys have got. I won't take anything. Please?" he asks again.

Prim sighs, looking Paavo in the eye. It is impossible to tell right now what she is thinking, and I would give anything to know. "Fine. I'll go with you. Carrie, can you take over here?" Prim is dabbing at Jack's leg with a wet towel. Mouseface nods- I'm not sure I've heard her speak yet. Prim gets up, and brushing off her pants, walks with Paavo over towards the alliance's supplies.

Paavo gives everything a cursory glance, picking some things up, putting them back down. He has almost looked through it all when he notices the District 3 cattle prod. He holds it up for a minute, curious. It hits me- he was unconscious when Copper used it on him. Stone and Nutmeg would have seen it in action but must not have told him about it. "This is the District 3 weapon, right? The one that just knocks people out? Quickly?" he asks Prim.

She nods. Then, after a few moments hesitation, she adds, shrugging her shoulders, "I guess you could take it if you want. None of us have taken the time to figure it out anyway. But it seems pretty complicated."

Paavo grabs the weapon, hiding it in his snowsuit. "Thanks, I appreciate it. This will get us closer, Prim- if I can get it to work." He winks at her before changing his tone. "Look, I've gotta get back. I'm supposed to be elk hunting right now. I'm going to have to make up a story to tell the Careers. I'll see you later." He charges off back into the woods.

I have mixed emotions as Paavo disappears into the trees. His sullen demeanor vanished; he looks like he is thrilled to be finally playing the Games. And his acting has been so incredible, I can't tell when he's serious. He may be the best player of all. But I still don't trust him. I wonder if Prim does.

Prim heads back across their camp to attend to Jack, and Mouseface, the only one who witnessed any part of the exchange, gives her a curious look.

Prim looks exasperated. "Look, I gave him the District 3 cattle prod. No one has gotten it to work here anyway, and I don't think he'll figure it out," she says, clearly a bit shaken. She continues. "And if by chance he does, and decides to use it on all of us, at least we'll die peacefully, without struggling."

Mouseface nods again without speaking. And they go back to re-cleaning Jack's leg.

* * *

Peeta and I watch as the camera cuts away to Paavo, who rejoins the Careers.

"So, where have you been, Paavo? All this time and no elk? We thought we were getting some food." Stone jeers.

"Yeah, I found myself on a detour. At their camp."

"_What?_" Silk, Stone, and Nutmeg say in unison. Paavo nods nonchalantly.

"And you didn't kill any of them?" Silk chides him.

"No, not this time. One of them is my district partner, remember? Being alone, I figured I could try to use it to our advantage," Paavo gives them all sly glances.

The three Careers practically giggle with delight. "And?" asks Nutmeg. "What type of advantage did you get?"

"Well," Paavo begins, "I took an inventory of their weapons and food- I know exactly what they have now. And we got this," Paavo brandishes the cattle prod in his hand. He turns to the Careers and lowers his voice. "So if we figure out how it works, we can use it when we attack them. This baby will help us to take all of them out at once."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35:

For the rest of the afternoon, the cameras focus primarily on the Careers. There is nothing too exciting going on in the alliance camp- Prim is caring for Jack, Annella has taken on the role as provider of fish and water, and Mouseface has made herself useful collecting twigs and branches for the fire, as well as fetching anything Prim and Annella need. I am proud of the girls' efficiency.

Meanwhile the Careers, after preparing and gorging themselves on the bobcat meat (thanks to Paavo's excellent survival skills training), sit around all afternoon staring at the cattle prod, trying to understand it. I am so furious at Paavo, I can barely look at him.

"It can't be that hard," Nutmeg is saying, exasperated, looking at the base. "I saw her turn it on in a matter of seconds. She just hit a few of the buttons at the same time." The problem was that there were at least a couple of hundred small buttons at the base, in rows, in various colors, with random letters and numbers, in no discernable order.

"Yeah, that's helpful," says Silk sarcastically. Nutmeg jeers at him.

"Maybe it's some kind of code?" Paavo throws in. "We just have to figure it out somehow."

"Or," interjects Stone, "we can just start trying stuff and vary it slightly until it works."

The latter sounds much less taxing; the Careers go to work. They try every different color possible. Hitting only the green buttons. The red ones. The yellow ones. They try spelling words. Games. Quell. Snow. They try hitting all of the same letters. The C's for Copper. The O's for Ohm. The same numbers. All of the 1's. They're from District 3- all of the 3's. Nothing they try turns the device on.

Frustrated, the Careers agree to set the cattle prod down, and go ahead with their plan to attack the alliance anyway. They still have more weapons, they reason, and an edge when it comes to hand-to-hand combat- especially since there's only one male left in the alliance. Since the food shortage will ultimately hit the Careers harder, they will need to attack as soon as possible, while they're still at a sizable weight advantage. Paavo pleads to the group to let him try and figure out the pattern tonight, and they decide to stage the assault early in the morning- District 3 weapon or not. The advantage of the cattle prod, however, is that they can use it at a distance so that their attack is far less risky- without it they will have to prepare themselves for a greater possibility of injury, especially with the way that Annella can handle her trident.

With such a clearly defined time range for the attack, my anticipation builds and diminishes at the same time. I am no longer nearly as concerned that the Gamemakers are going to spring something awful on the alliance this evening, with a full-scale battle planned on them for twelve hours later. But the butterflies in my stomach for tomorrow morning are already fluttering.

I am somewhat right. By evening, the arena begins to "snow"- again, with dry ice crystals- providing no hydration but plenty of opportunity for hypothermia and frostbite. What starts as a beautiful snowfall throughout the arena turns into a potentially deadly blizzard, with whipping winds and an accumulation of significantly more frozen CO2, but compared to the drama of the first two nights- this is cake. The Careers have the shelter of the Cornucopia- they lay inside the cochlear segment while Paavo keeps watch at the wide entrance near the fire- looking perplexed as he stares at the District 3 weapon, wheels turning as he tries to make sense of it. The alliance has the protection of the forest canopy- as well as enough camping supplies that they had swiped from the Cornucopia at the beginning- to keep this storm from being life-threatening. They simply bundle up even more than usual, protecting themselves with anything even remotely resembling covers, and huddle a little closer to the fire (and to each other).

Peeta and I cuddle up, too- we get under the blanket in the sitting room and kiss all evening as the Quell plays in the background- now when my lips are on Peeta's somehow I don't need to keep my eyes on the TV screen anymore- though I briefly think of Prim in the storm and wish that she could be half as warm as I am. Peeta tastes like the hot chocolate that we drank earlier this evening. His strong arms around me, the feeling of safeness and security, combined with the heat of us being so close, start to have a tranquilizing effect. After a night of no sleep and a night of awful nightmarish sleep, I am exhausted, and it isn't long before my eyelids start to droop. Peeta gently kisses my forehead, which I take as silent encouragement to get some rest while I can. It isn't even 9 p.m. I fall asleep almost instantaneously.

What feels like a few seconds later, Peeta is the one lightly poking me in the ribs. "Wake up, Katniss!" he whispers excitedly. "Look!" He is pointing at the TV screen.

I open my eyes enough to see that the camera is focused on Paavo- who looks like a lightbulb just flashed above his head. The camera isn't close enough for me to me to see the numbers on the District 3 weapon, but it is obvious that Paavo has learned something important- he is gripping the prod with his left hand, three fingers carefully placed on neighboring buttons, and the prod is sparkling with electricity.

"Whoa!" I whisper in amazement. "He figured out how to turn it on."

"Yeah," Peeta agrees, "just not how to fire it yet. But hopefully he will soon- before the sun rises."

"Wait, what time is it?" I ask in disbelief. I can't imagine that more than an hour has elapsed.

"Four-thirty," Peeta replies.

Wow. While still a little disoriented, I am waking up fast- I've had almost eight hours of sleep already. And the Careers were all asleep before I was, planning to attack the alliance in a couple of hours- which means that they will all be waking up soon. Paavo never woke them to take his watch. He doesn't have much time.

But he doesn't need it. Pointing the weapon away from the Cornucopia, towards the fire, Paavo carefully places the three fingers from his right hand on the base of the cattle prod, in an arrangement that perfectly mirrors his left- and the jolt of electricity escapes the end in a blinding flash of light, hitting a branch several yards away and setting it aflame. As soon as it registers to him that he understands how to work this new weapon, Paavo turns around and points it in the direction of the Careers.

The problem is that the cracking of the branches, combined with the flash of light emitted from the prod, was enough to wake the dead. When Paavo spins around, he finds the Careers conscious, sitting up, rifling through their stuff, desperately grabbing for their machetes and rocks- it looks like all three of them had thought to keep their weapons by their sides when they slept tonight. Goes to show how much they really trusted Paavo.

Paavo pushes the buttons to fire the prod again, aiming at Stone first- who is better at killing at a distance than the other two- sitting in the middle. He hits him right in the chest, and after a few moments Stone's torso topples backwards until he is laying flat on the metal floor of the Cornucopia. Stone is out cold. Unfortunately, it takes Paavo an additional second or two to double-check his finger positioning and turn to the left to re-aim, and by this time both Silk and Nutmeg have found their machetes.

Paavo fires again at Silk, who had already risen and started to close the distance towards him. The prod sends out voltage that hits Silk in the stomach; we watch as Silk freezes instantly and a couple of moments later falls to the ground. Paavo jerks the weapon to the right, but by that time Nutmeg is practically on top of him. She lets loose a wild swing from her machete just as Paavo hits the button combination on the prod one last time.

The electricity that hits Nutmeg on her left side is enough to redirect the aim with her machete. Unfortunately, the swing had already been set in motion. So rather than slicing Paavo right in the center of his chest, the machete blade pierces his left shoulder, and gashes downward as Nutmeg twists away. Paavo screams and drops his weapon. But the cattle prod had already transmitted a significant amount of voltage to Nutmeg's body, and she is powerless to continue to swing as she falls to the ground, twitching. Blood gushes from Paavo's shoulder, coloring his light jacket a sickening red. But this is no time for him to stop. He takes out his knife with his right hand and approaches each of the Careers in turn, slitting their throats as they lay unconscious. The cannon booms three times. And just like that, the Careers are gone and the arena is down to alliance members.

Bleeding profusely, blood soaks through the entire left side of Paavo's jacket in a matter of seconds. He looks around the Cornucopia, but nothing is of that much use to him there with regard to healing his wound. Looking for the second time as if a lightbulb lit above his head, he picks up the cattle prod again and heads away from the Cornucopia, towards the woods and the alliance, leaving a trail of bloody snow behind him.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36:

The time it takes for Paavo to make his trek from the Cornucopia to the forest seems like an eternity. It takes appreciably longer than it normally would, anyway, because he is still bleeding and goes at a slow pace, and has to stop and rest several times due to dizziness. But I am absolutely terrified of what he plans to do when he arrives at the alliance's camp, and each footstep seems to be in slow motion. I have to remind myself to breathe- I can't hold my breath until this is resolved; I will pass out long before then. Paavo has a death grip on the cattle prod in one hand, and if he can use it to incapacitate Ruby, Silk, and Stone- than Mouseface, Prim, and Annella aren't likely to pose any greater of a challenge. His other hand is clutching the wound on his shoulder.

As Paavo stumbles towards the alliance's shelter, Annella spots him first- she is cleaning some recently speared fish when she hears him crack a few twigs upon his approach (despite everything, I briefly smile, thinking of Peeta and how their lack of stealth in the forest must clearly run in their family). Annella is on guard instantly, poised to throw her trident, but not before she yells out to the rest of the alliance.

"Prim! Jack! Carrie!" she screams. "The traitor is here! Do I spear him?"

Jack is stable but too weak to respond- he doesn't even look up. Mouseface glances over, runs to Annella's side to back her up, but simply gives a shrug of her shoulders- she's not one to express her opinion. Prim glances up from Jack, and the look in her eyes is one of shock, but it is impossible to know what exactly she is surprised by. But Paavo responds before she gets a chance to speak up.

"I'm not a traitor," Paavo interjects. He tries to maintain his normal bravado, but he's far too weak for it to be effective. "Didn't you just hear the cannon? That's the sound of me taking out all three Careers," he attempts to sound cocky, but his voice is weak and escapes in a hoarse whisper.

"Prove it," Annella snaps back. "Drop your weapon."

Paavo looks hesitantly at the prod in his hand, taking a deep breath, but eventually obliges, releasing it into the snow. He holds up his hands. "Look. I did my job as part of the alliance. I was the mole, I did everything that I had to do to convince them that they could trust me, and I just killed them all with that," he nods towards the weapon now lying harmlessly on the ground. "One of the Careers sliced me open with her machete, as you can probably tell. And I happen to know that my district partner over there is a fantastic healer. I need her help." Paavo looks Prim in the eye. "Please?"

Prim returns his gaze. "I can't make you any promises," she says evenly. "That looks like a nasty wound." She sighs. "But I'll take a look at it. Annella, we're okay for now if you want to go back to what you were doing. If you can help me move Jack first, that is."

Before she obliges, Annella eyes Paavo suspiciously, but doesn't argue. She and Prim gently lift Jack away from the "rescue station," to a neighboring patch of ground.

Prim has Paavo lay down where Jack had been situated- within easy reach of all of the medical supplies in the Gamemaker-provided first-aid kits, as well as all of the plants that Prim had collected in the forest. Not to mention, near the fire, as she knew Jack's activity would be diminished while he was recovering. She has Paavo take off his jacket, and exhales when she sees the dried blood underneath.

"Like with Jack, the cold has helped reduce your blood loss," Prim explains to him. "As well as stave off infection. But I'm going to clean the wound anyway, just so I can get a better look at what we're dealing with. You might start to feel like you want to go to sleep, but it's important that you stay conscious. So keep talking to me, answering my questions. Okay?"

"Okay," Paavo agrees.

"So, how did you figure out the cattle prod?" Prim inquires. She is busily applying just a dab of antiseptic on the wound from the first-aid kit, which makes Paavo scream, but then uses an abundance of leaves to soothe the stinging, and he calms down.

"Um, I figured it was related to their district," Paavo says through clenched teeth. "Threes. We tried all of the threes earlier, but I noticed this morning that there were only three on each side that were located on a green-colored button. That would make them a little easier to find in a hurry. Green for go. Three three's on each side." His voice sounds weak, faint.

Prim nods, continuing to dab some gauze as well as a couple of different plant varieties on Paavo's shoulder. One looks just like aloe, though I know it is indigenous to warmer locales- so it must be some sort of Capitol muttation. "Okay, Paavo. We're just cleaning the wound here. Almost done. Meanwhile, I have another question for you. Why did you bring the prod back down here just now? Were you planning to use it to attack us?"

"What?" Paavo sounds tired but surprised. "No- not on you, anyway," He gives Prim a hopeful smile. We're going to be the last two. Right?" He looks at her adoringly.

Prim's expression turns sad. "No, Paavo. Carrie, Annella, and Jack are all with the alliance," she gently explains to him. "No one needs to hurt any of them. That's not part of the plan, remember? We're all in this together." She gently strokes his hair, then removes the last of the leaves and examines his wound closely, nodding with approval at her progress.

Though this is a tender moment between Prim and Paavo, and a critical one in terms of the alliance, I shudder. Because if the Captiol didn't know what was going on before, they probably do now. In trying to explain things to Paavo, Prim has made a grave mistake.

Paavo looks up at Prim again, gives her an almost imperceptible shake of his head in answer to her question. "I guess it's not part of the plan," he whispers.

Prim gently withdraws the leaves from Paavo's shoulder, and begins applying an extract from a different plant, which she has ground up somehow. "This _Papaver somniferum_ extract is for your pain. There's nothing in the first-aid kit for that, but this is the stuff that the Capitol uses to make morphling," she says, eyes beginning to well up with tears. "This will make you loosen up, and it will help your shoulder feel better."

Paavo nods slowly, and you can see him visibly relax. "That feels good," he says softly, a slight smile on his lips.

Prim continues to apply the concoction, while Paavo is lying on his back, resting the back of his head on Prim's lap. Apparently everything she needs to treat him is within easy reach. "Does your arm still hurt?" she whispers to him after a couple of minutes.

"No," he murmurs. But then he gets a goofy smile on his face- he is clearly feeling some side effects of the chemicals- and says, "But it does feel tingly. How nice. Thank you." The pain medication has obviously kicked in. And with his pain finally gone, the tiredness that he must feel from everything- staying up all night, fighting the Careers, his wound, trekking to the forest- finally looks like it is catching up with him. His eyelids start to droop. So when Prim speaks again, I am surprised by what she says.

"Okay, now I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. This is _Daphne mezereum_." Prim reaches around for the plant, plucks several berries from it, and squeezes them so that their juice drips into Paavo's shoulder. She begins dabbing it lightly with a piece of gauze, holding it there for several moments, applying pressure, and then repeating the process. "You'll be asleep soon." Tears are still gathering in her eyes, and a few eventually slip down her face. "I'm so sorry, Paavo." She kisses him on the cheek.

Paavo's reaction to whatever Prim just applied is immediate. The color drains from his face, he breaks out into a cold sweat- his perspiration is evident even on the TV-, and he begins twitching uncontrollably. A ghastly pale, he opens his eyes long enough to give Prim a look of pure confusion- in his drugged state, it's difficult to tell if he can register what is happening or not. But the look doesn't last long- because within a few seconds his eyes close again, and he soon stops twitching, stops moving altogether. Less than minute later, the cannon fires.

My jaw hits the floor as I clasp my hand over my mouth for a moment, not comprehending what just unfolded. Impossible. Unable to keep my thoughts inside my head, I quietly voice what is now pretty plainly obvious. "Oh, my God," I whisper, "Prim just poisoned him."


	37. Chapter 37

A/N:  
For those of you wondering, Prim didn't give Paavo nightlock. _Daphne mezereum_ is a plant found in taiga biomes with poisonous berries- I was trying to be climate-specific :)

Chapter 37:

I cannot bring myself to take my eyes away from the TV screen. I know that Peeta is still beside me, I can feel him look my way- but I can't face him yet. I just stare straight ahead.

As soon as the cannon booms, Annella and Mouseface approach the area where Prim sits, and Jack and now a deceased Paavo lay. Annella just smiles at Prim, says to her 'I knew you could do it, girl,' in a confident voice, and sits down beside her, putting her arm around Prim's shoulders and pulling her close for a hug.

Prim replies, "Annella, don't. I feel awful. He was my district partner! But when I was asking him questions just a couple of minutes ago, he basically said- not his exact words, I'm paraphrasing here- but he basically said that he might have attacked you guys, that he wanted only the two of us to be left. Obviously he didn't care about the rest of you. We're all in this together now- that just isn't right. I had to do it- preemptively- to protect our alliance."

I suppose that it doesn't matter at this point whether the Capitol knows about the alliance- because the four tributes that remain aren't going to fight each other- so if the Captiol didn't about it already than they will figure it out real quick. The million dollar question is- what are they going to do in response? Of course my hunch is that they will try to throw every natural disaster possible in the alliance's path; see if they can pick them off as quickly as possible. On the other hand, this is one of the fastest Games I've ever watched- not even three full days have elapsed, and already we're down to four tributes- which has to be some kind of record. Perhaps the Gamemakers will want to space out the deaths from this point forward, just to keep the people of Panem entertained for another week or so. I suppose the moral of the story is to be prepared for anything.

I finally muster enough courage to look over at Peeta. When he sees me looking at him, he glances back- but his face grimaces after a moment and he looks away, trying not to cry. He finally speaks up, but I almost don't recognize his voice- it sounds so strained, out of control.

"Katniss, I know that you had nothing to do what just happened on the TV screen. But- my brother just died. And your sister killed him. And I just don't understand her reasoning. Because down the road he may or may not have wanted to attack someone else in the alliance?! He was a member of the alliance, too- and he risked his life to kill the Careers. So they repay him by killing him, before he even does anything wrong? It's not justified." Anger and resentment flood his voice.

I immediately find myself getting defensive for my sister. "He couldn't be trusted," I shoot back. "I didn't think you trusted him yourself. Did you?"

I'm right- and I think Peeta knows it. But he won't acknowledge it now, not while he's hurting so much. He shakes his head, but not in response to me. "I can't talk about this now- I'm sorry. I can't talk to you. Please- leave me alone for a little while. Promise me. Please."

I'm not used to Peeta shutting me out- and I despise it. "Wait, Peeta-," I begin, desperation in my tone, but Peeta has already turned around and fled the sitting room. A moment later I hear the door to his bedroom slam shut.

I feel such an odd combination of emotions right now. Even though he was my district's tribute, I can't help but feel a strange sense of relief that Paavo is gone. None of the other alliance members- Annella, Jack, or Mouseface- have done anything that has made me remotely question their allegiance to the alliance, to overpowering the Capitol- but Paavo has. And I long feared that Paavo, in his drive to win, would be willing to sacrifice the alliance, and most importantly my sister, in the process. But Prim is safe from Paavo now- they all are. She may not be safe from the Gamemakers, the arena- but I can finally breathe a little easier knowing that the other tributes are no longer a threat to her survival.

Then again, I think of Peeta running away, pulling away from me, and it tears me up inside. I think about what would happen if Paavo had succeeded in killing Prim- if the situation were reversed- and I know in my heart that I wouldn' t be able to keep Peeta close either, if I knew that it was his brother who was the cause of so much suffering. I keep this in mind when I go to my own bedroom, passing Peeta's locked door on the way. I want to pound on his door, tell him that I want to be there for him, like he's always been for me- but I don't.

Instead, after cleaning myself up a bit, I head down to the wagering bar to see Haymitch. Effie has been MIA- but I suppose I shouldn't expect to see her unless I'm willing to suck up to Capitol people just for the sake of being in their company- which I most certainly am not. The wagering bar is definitely more my style. I look around for Haymitch- and realize that he hasn't moved seats or changed position since I saw him last, and hordes of empty shotglasses with a faint green residue litter his end of the bar. I look at the time- 7 a.m. I realize that I haven't seen him in roughly a day and a half- I've been tucked away in my own little world consisting of Peeta, the sitting room, and the arena through the TV screen- and I am suddenly overcome with guilt.

"Well, hello sweetheart," Haymitch slurs to me as I quietly pull up a chair next to him, "Haven't seen you in a while." Clearly he's had some shots of regular alcohol as well.

I flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," I say simply. "I've been-,"

"I think I can wager a guess as to what you and your star-crossed lover have been doing, hon," Haymitch replies, giving me a sly glance. "You can spare me the gooey details."

I turn an even deeper crimson. "Look, I'm sorry," I repeat. "That's over anyway, Peeta won't even talk to me now- after what just happened," I glance up at the TV, then back at Haymitch, "and maybe it was a mistake to begin with," I explain. "I should have been here, helping you."

Haymitch's eyebrow raises in surprise when I mention Peeta, but he quickly shifts tone, chuckles, puts his arm around me. "Sweetheart, I've been doing this a long time- longer than you've been alive, in fact. I don't need your help. Especially not the kind where you and lover-boy team up to take down one of Prim's biggest sponsors." He looks at me pointedly, clearly referring to the Armondo debacle.

I feel even sicker- like the wind has just been knocked out of me. "That's exactly what I was most afraid of," I whisper, "making things worse when I was trying my best to help. But I still should have been here- that is still better than sticking my head in the sand." I have never been so ashamed. "Do you need me now? Does Prim?"

Haymitch coughs, clears his throat, pats me on the back. "That was a joke, sweetheart. Don't worry, I would have called you guys if I had really needed you." Haymitch shakes his head. "Look, I know you are better suited to the Games compared to your sister, but Prim came into the Quell with all kinds of advantages over you- four months of training, an alliance. They cleaned up at the Cornucopia. She's only really needed the sponsors once so far. As for here on out, since, er- what just happened a little while ago, Prim's starting to gain some ground with sponsorships. She's a lot stronger than people gave her credit for- what she did to Paavo proved that. But there's still time for things to go awry, I guess."

"So what's going to happen now?" I inquire, with a hint of desperation. I lower my voice. "What's going on with the rebellion?"

Haymitch sighs. The bar is pretty rowdy, giving us some license to speak freely. "That's not as hopeful. Districts 11 and 7 are back under complete Capitol control now. They won't be involved in the arena-break at all. So it looks like only Districts 3, 4, and 8 will be staging it- and that could happen imminently. If they win, they're going to care about rescuing their own tributes- not Prim. But there won't be enough rebel armies to pull it off against one of the Capitol's most guarded fortresses. They're going to lose." He takes a swig of liquor.

"So what's going to happen?" I repeat my question even more anxiously. "Can we participate? We have to get Prim out of there!" I exclaim. I watch Prim on the TV- the cameras are showing Paavo being lifted out of the arena- and can't stand the thought of her trapped in there, regardless of whether she's alone or not.

Haymitch shrugs. "I don't think we should do anything. Like I said, they're going to lose. And when they do, the Capitol is going to want their revenge. They're going to kill the rebels that they catch. It's a death trap." He looks at me seriously. "Besides, given what she's survived so far, Prim has an excellent chance to survive a few more Gamemaker stunts. Jack's injured, Carrie is too timid- but I like Prim's chances. She clearly takes after her sister." He gives me a little wink, and for the moment, he calms me down.

Unfortunately, the calmness lasts about 3.1459 seconds. Because as I'm watching the TV screen, I notice a dense fog quickly overtake the arena, completely obscuring the camera's views of the tributes and leaving nothing but whiteness.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38:

I am in utter confusion as to what is happening in the arena- I can't see anything but the fog, though there is some distant rumbling in the background. When I look over at Haymitch, he looks perplexed, but there is just a hint of a sly smile on his face. He obviously suspects something about this mysterious white gas that I do not.

"What is it? What?" I ask him impatiently.

"I'm wondering….if the electric field around the arena has been breached," he replies thoughtfully. "As I told you before, dry ice sublimates- so if the protection around the arena were suddenly compromised, and warm air rushed in- well, that would explain the fog, it could just be from the ice. The gas might be as simple as carbon dioxide. It's pretty cold, of course- but once it's gone the arena will warm substantially."

I ponder the implications of what Haymitch has just told me. "Do you think that …," I can't bring myself to finish the sentence, as if merely saying the words will jinx it. But Haymitch immediately understands what I'm talking about.

"It's the work of the rebels?" Haymitch completes my unfinished sentence. "Well….maybe. God, I hope so."

We sit in silence at the bar for a few more minutes, though the action in the arena has spurred chaos around us- yelling and screaming and drinking and wagering. It quickly becomes apparent that the gas is harmless- and after a while, in certain areas, things begin to clear up and we begin to see the vague outlines of the tributes. As the forest had the least amount of dry ice anyway, that is the first area to clear completely. And by the reaction of the tributes, it has indeed grown significantly warmer- Annella immediately peels off her snowsuit, revealing a skintight top and leggings….no doubt a strategy to pull in even more sponsorship. Not that she's really needed it, though, with the alliance and her fishing capabilities. The tributes all look around in wonder as the white gas continues to escape into the sky. Haymitch and I are mesmerized as well- we can't stop staring at the TV.

But nothing happens- at least with regard to the rebels. The alliance sets to work with reorganizing their camp in light of the drastically changed weather conditions, looking up in interest when there's a particularly loud rumble of noise. But there is no televised arena-break or rescue that we can see. I even begin scrutinizing the TV footage in hopes that I will see video being looped- like the mockingjay in District 13. But after some time the noises and fog cease, and the tributes in the alliance carry on as everything is fairly normal. Well, at least as if everything is normal in the Games.

I look over at Haymitch, and I can't help but feel sad that the seat next to him is conspicuously absent. I suddenly realize that I really wish that Peeta was here- though of course I understand why he isn't. I sigh audibly, loud enough for Haymitch to hear me over the sounds of the bar.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, he'll come around," Haymitch says gently, putting his arm around my shoulders. I find it slightly eerie that Haymitch seems to know exactly what I'm thinking at the moment- we've spent entirely too much time together lately.

"And what if he doesn't?" I question him. "I'm, um, not entirely sure that I would, if the situation were reversed."

"Yeah, well the two of you are different, and feel differently about each other," Haymitch replies. "You like him and appreciate all he's done for you and apparently are willing to make out with him if it means that you can keep your mind off of your sister for a little while. But he's head-over-heels in love with you. There's a bit of a distinction there."

I blanch at Haymitch's assessment of Peeta's and my relationship. "You're wrong," I counter him. "I didn't make out with him just to keep my mind off of Prim. I-…" I realize what I'm about to say reflexively the millisecond before it slips out of my mouth, and I stop short. I was about to say that I love Peeta, too. But I am not good with words, and these words in particular are hard enough to get out to the person to whom they should be directed, never mind anyone else.

I decide, right then and there, that Peeta needs to know how I feel- as awkward as I may feel saying it, he needs to know that those words coming out of my mouth the last time weren't just me feeling loopy and affectionate from the green drink. I am determined not to miss any further opportunity to help Haymitch, but this won't take long.

"…I- I have to go," I finish the sentence with an entirely different sentiment than when I began it. "I'll be back really soon to help if you need me." With that, I spin the barstool around and jump off before tearing down the hallway toward the elevator.

When I finally reach Peeta's room, the door is still locked. Breathless and sweaty, I pound on it. "Peeta!" I shout to him. "Peeta!" I exclaim again.

Silence. For several moments. Then, finally, a testy response. "What do you want?"

"I need to tell you something!" I want to say it to his face, but I'm also a chicken, stalling for time. "Can you open the door?"

I can almost hear him considering, as I hear a shuffling sound, as he presumably comes closer. But he doesn't cave all the way. "What is it?" he asks, the door still a protective buffer between us.

I don't have time for this. I need to get back down to the wagering bar. I dive in. "Look, I've felt this way for a while now, it's just that I've never been very good with words, not like you are. I just- I can't stand the thought of you turning away from me like this. Anyway, I haven't had a single green drink and I'm still here, and I need to tell you something." My voice drops practically to a whisper. "I- um…. I- I- love you." I'm willing to say whatever he wants if it means that he won't turn away from me anymore.

Silence. For a few moments. I wonder if he even heard me. Then, without warning, the door bursts open. Peeta is grinning. "Say that one more time?"

This one is easier. Because suddenly I have no fear that he's going to reject me. It was easy to picture him walking away when I was saying it to the door, but now, as much as he might be trying to test me, he has a gleam in his eye that's impossible for him to conceal. I say it again, looking right into his eyes. "I love you, Peeta. Please don't shut me out."

In response, he opens his arms wide, and I jump into them for a huge hug. He pulls me close and we hug for what feels like a very long time. After a minute, however, I pull away. "I need to get back," I whisper. "I'm going back to meet up with Haymitch at the wagering bar. I just wanted to let you know."

Peeta nods in understanding, but a sorrowful look fills his eyes. "You'll understand if I don't watch the Quell anymore, won't you?" he whispers. "I….I…don't think I can…."

"It's okay," I reassure him, hugging him again. "I understand. But at the same time I hope you'll understand that I have to."

Peeta nods. "I'll be praying for Prim," he says softly, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. He takes me into his arms again, before murmuring in my ear, "But no matter what happens, I love you, too, and I can't wait to marry you when this is over."

I smile before turning around and heading back down our hallway to the elevator.

When I get back to the bar, nothing has changed. I give a huge sigh of relief before plopping back down on the barstool next to Haymitch. At this point, he is communicating with sponsors all over the bar- they are buying each other rounds of drinks and gesturing to each other across the room. I sit there for a while observing him, and I have to say that I'm impressed. He's given a few thumbs-up type signals, so presumably he's cemented a few sponsorships for Prim.

On TV, the cameras focus on the alliance, by themselves now, without fear of being hunted (at least by tributes). Now that they are in a warmer environment and have caught up on all of their chores around camp, they lie on their backs, looking at the sky (or the dome of the arena, who knows), talking to each other and laughing. Jack's leg looks remarkably improved. Annella and Prim braid each other's hair. For the first time since before the opening ceremonies, they look relaxed.

But it doesn't last long, because the tributes recoil in fear at the sound of the blaring trumpets.

"Attention, Attention," the voice of a Gamemaker booms into the arena, on the TV screen. It isn't Claudius Templesmith's voice, but otherwise I can't place it. "As you know, the rules of the Hunger Games expressly state that no tribute is to receive any outside assistance whatsoever, unless it is in the form of a gift- which must be provided only by their district mentors through sponsorships, and approved by Capitol Gamemakers." We are all on edge as the voice pauses for a second. After a sigh, it continues. "Today, barbaric attacks were perpetrated on the Capitol by rogue citizens of Panem Districts three, four, and eight. There was an attempt by these districts to breach the arena walls and remove their tributes, effectively ending their time in the arena. Fortunately, we were eventually able to contain the situation, but as this is an explicit violation of the Hunger Games rules, tributes from these districts are hereby disqualified from the Quell, effective immediately. Therefore, by default, the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and the Third Quarter Quell…..is Primrose Everdeen."


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39:

I am stunned by the turn of events. My jaw drops, and it takes a couple of seconds for my mind to register the fact that the announcer just crowned my sister the Quell winner. As soon as it does, my eyes involuntarily fill up with tears and I start shaking like a leaf. I am sure I look like one of the older women in our district that I used to always make fun of on Reaping Day for not being able to keep their act together, when their children managed to avoid being reaped despite their names being on a lot of paper slips. But I swear never to judge again. Because until now I had absolutely no idea how heart-wrenching it felt to be certain that the whole world was going to be taken away from you, and then to somehow, miraculously, get it back.

I don't have time to dwell on the positive news for long. The TV camera briefly flashes to the tributes. Though they heard the announcement, all of them look bewildered as they try to comprehend what it means- since they have pretty much been clueless up to this point- and clearly they can't; it is evident in their expressions. But the cameras only stay on them for a bit before something unprecedented happens- the focus of the cameras shift partially as the TV's that we're watching suddenly become a split-screen. On one half is live action in the arena as always. But on the other half of the screen- the camera brings something entirely new into focus. Something that obviously occurred outside of the arena, something that already took place- you can tell by where the sun is in the sky. And what I see through the lens is enough to make me want to throw up.

Finnick Odair and who I'm guessing are his parents- they all have the same bronze-colored hair- are hanging from nooses, dead. Though their lifeless faces are already becoming distorted to the point of un-recognition, I identify Finnick because of his body- and because his arm is stiff, grasping for a trident that a Peacekeeper is holding just out of his reach. Not only is the image being projected on half of the TV, but into the arena as well- and the other half of the screen is zoomed in on Annella, waiting for her reaction. The second Annella sees them, she breaks down into hysterical sobs and falls to the ground, screaming.

The booming Gamemaker voice comes back on the speaker, who speaks in an ominous tone. "These people committed the ultimate crime against the Capitol- treason- by organizing this attack. Their actions were punishable by death. All of the other rebel armies that participated were also killed in self-defense by Peacekeepers." The Capitol cuts to some additional previously recorded clips of the arena-break, rebels attacking Peacekeepers with whatever weapons they had available; Peacekeepers eventually gunning down every last one of them. Not coincidentally, I recognize a family that gets a fair amount of screen time as Mouseface's. First of all, they share the same rodentlike features- and second, Mouseface begins bawling the moment that she sees them. Though I wasn't able to recognize anyone that I could pinpoint as Jack's family specifically, they must have been there- because by the end of these clips he is crying, too.

The Gamemaker voice continues in a cold voice, in what is to be his final devastating blow: "And insofar as the disqualified tributes are the unintentional impetus of these attacks, it is incumbent upon the Capitol to punish them to death. Their execution by hanging is scheduled to take place tomorrow at 12 noon outside the Training Center. May this serve as a warning to anyone considering retaliating against the Capitol to save future tributes- your efforts will be in vain. Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The wagering bar, for one split-second, is silent. In that moment, I allow myself to entertain the possibility that every last citizen of Panem is feeling the same way- shocked at all of the death, appalled at the brutality of the Capitol. I glance at Haymitch, and the injustice is certainly plain on his face. But before I have time to gauge anyone else's epression, the Gamemaker's voice comes through the intercom one more time. And with a remarkably different, lightened tone.

"Ahem, attention, citizens of Panem. In addition, I am pleased to announce that the wedding of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark will take place beginning tomorrow at four o'clock in the afternoon, also outside of the Training Center. Primrose, as this year's Quell winner, will be able to serve as maid-of-honor in the ceremony. Finalized invitations will be completed within the hour and distributed by this evening. Although everyone will be able to view the ceremony on TV, only those that receive an invitation will be able to attend the wedding in person. Thank you."

With that, the wagering bar at once appears to recover from the earlier news and erupts in a burst of excitement. They collect on their bets from the Quell- several grumble as they are forced to pay up- and an entirely new round of wagering starts- how my hair will be styled, whether Peeta or I will cry saying our vows. I am amazed that people are gambling on my decisions- yet no one is approaching me, asking my opinion- it's as if they don't even realize that I am there. Which is good, because most of me is somewhere else entirely anyway. And certainly not on my upcoming wedding.

My state of mind could not be more bipolar. On one hand, _Prim won!_ I cannot get over the fact that she managed to overcome all odds. My shy, heart-of-gold younger sister, who I swore wouldn't be able to harm a fly much less another tribute, managed to do just enough to survive, beat out all of the other competition. After meeting with President Snow several months ago, I had lost all faith that she would even have a fair shot. But as a district, I suppose there are worse things you can do to spite the Capitol than trying to manipulate a wedding date- like perpetrating an outright attack against it. Still- I had never allowed myself to fully embrace the possibility of Prim returning- and now that it is real, tangible, I simply don't know how to grasp it. I hope that it will hit me when I see her.

On the other hand- _the alliance lost_. The rebellion is dead- or at least, near fatally wounded. I bow my head in remembrance of some amazing people who were able to do what I have always wanted to do but never quite had the courage - openly defy the Capitol without any room for misinterpretation. How brave they all were! Even though I survived the arena, compared to them, I feel like a coward. And the hope that had been driving me through this whole process- the hope that Prim would take part in something spectacular, something greater than her own survival- vanishes into thin air. Actually, it was more than that- it was also my hope for our future beyond the end of the Quell. What are we going to go back to? What are we going to be able to look forward to? I am terrified that Prim, Peeta, Haymitch and I will be stuck in the mind-numbing present. After seeing the District 11 citizens on the Victory Tour, and watching the footage of the District 8 uprising on the mayor's TV, there is no way that I can be complacent. After the little seed of rebellion had been planted when I first spoke with President Snow, and after I sowed and gingerly nurtured it for the last year, watched it grow into more than I imagined, how can I be expected to walk away from it now? I can't.

I look over at Haymitch, who looks as depressed as I have ever seen him. With one swipe of his arm, he sends the empty shotglasses of green stuff he had drunk to stay awake for the entirety of the Quell off the bar and crashing onto the floor. He takes two shots of liquor in a row. "What's the fucking point anymore?" he says angrily. I am about to dismiss his remark as being merely a frustration of having to stay up all night to mentor when I notice that he has tears in his eyes.

Not knowing what to say, not sure if I have any comforting words to give, I pull him close for a hug. His breath reeks of spirits, but I hold on tight as he sobs on my shoulder. After a minute, I finally say the only thing I believe is in my power to make him feel better. "Prim won," I tell him, mustering as close as I can get to a smile. "Thank you."

When he looks up at me, his eyes are red and puffy. "But we lost," he replies.

I nod my head. "I know. But that's not your fault."

He looks like he is about to reply when his gaze falls back to the TV screen, now behind me. He nods at me to turn around.

The hovercraft has arrived, and Prim is waved onto the single ladder that falls enthusiastically by someone from the Capitol. I can see the hesitation in her eyes- she obviously feels conflicted about leaving the rest of the alliance. For a moment, I wonder if she'll refuse- but she eventually climbs on. I feel a sharp pang of guilt- is she deserting the rest of her alliance because of me? Probably. Isn't that ultimately what I told her to do? Of course. I wince.

Next, a different hovercraft arrives for Annella, Jack, and Mouseface. Unlike the previous one, there is no animated waving- Peacekeepers descend the three ladders that drop down and harshly shove the alliance members to the ladders with the butts of their weapons. Jack has to hop on one foot. Then the hovercraft disappears, taking the alliance with them. I wonder if I will ever see any of them again.

And just like that, the Quell is over, and the TV screen goes black.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, normally I don't like to detract too much from the story by writing long author's notes, but there are a few things I would like to say here.

I guess, personally, my biggest criticism of the Hunger Games trilogy is that I felt like the rebellion happened _so fast_- a lot faster than I thought was realistic. They had been under the Capitol regime in Panem for as long as anyone had really lived, and to coordinate a rebellion and completely overthrow the government takes time- as do wars themselves. It just seemed like WAY too few pages covered the events in the time elapsed between when sparks of a rebellion began vs. the completion of an all-out war. I would have LOVED to see Suzanne Collins write more of a Harry Potter-esque-type series of 5-7 books, where the Games were sort of the annual event the series was based upon, and every year the rebellion would get a little stronger until finally war broke out in the last couple of books. But, alas it wasn't to be- and I suppose Suzanne Collins did just fine with a trilogy instead ;)

In this fanfiction, I am obviously trying to slow down the progress of the rebellion a bit, to set things up for at least one or two more Games before an all-out war officially breaks out. All of that said, however, I unfortunately don't have the time (or right now, uh, the inclination) to write a few hundred thousand more words describing the next few years from Katniss's point of view. I only have a couple of chapters left, I think, before I will reach what I consider to be a pretty good stopping point. Maybe I'll write more down the road, maybe not. But hopefully those of you reading will be satisfied that it is a complete enough story, even though I'm leaving the door open for a lot to happen in the future.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40:

The Quell is over. I just can't believe it.

Haymitch is inconsolable- and I have no solace left, no handle on things anyway- I am still trying to process everything myself. With a pat on the shoulder, I thank him again, ask if there is anything else I can do, and I hope he can't detect the obligatory tone in my voice. He shakes his head with his hand over his face, embarrassed, gesturing for me to go ahead and leave. I tell him I will see him soon- I wonder if Prim will be back by tonight- and then run to the twelfth floor of the Training Center tower to see Peeta. I don't know if Peeta has any comfort left, either- I can't expect him to, after what happened with his brother- but I need it, I need the security I feel when he holds me close to him- I'm just hoping that he'll oblige. _En route_, I see Effie, and I beg her to go see Haymitch at the bar. I'm not sure how capable she is of relating to us, of feeling empathy towards the rebellion- but perhaps she can find something to say to Haymitch that doesn't come off as condescending. Though I don't hold my breath, I am relieved that at least there will be someone else to check on him.

When I reach Peeta's room, he's not there. I search the entire floor frantically for a few minutes, before realizing that if Peeta really wanted to clear his mind, he wouldn't be here anyway. I run up the stairs, two-at-a-time, to the roof. I find him looking over the railing at the edge, down on the horde of celebrating Capitol citizens. He doesn't hear me join him.

I speak quietly. "It's over."

Peeta jumps in surprise, but then slowly turns around to face me. His eyes are analytical, observing me carefully, gauging my expression. He looks as though he wants to ask me a million questions, but restrains himself. "I figured," he says simply, tilting his head downward towards the Capitol celebration. He grows quiet, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to speak again.

I get only two more words out before a lump builds up in my throat, precluding further speech. "Prim won."

Relief floods his face. "Oh, Katniss," he says, walking the few steps that distanced us and sweeping me into a huge hug. His arms around me give me the security I need to let myself be completely vulnerable, and I break down in his embrace, lump in throat dissolving as I begin sobbing uncontrollably. He just holds me close, gently moving his hand up and down my back as I cry on his shoulder, literally. After a minute, I've released enough tension to be able to think again, communicate. I sniffle and wipe my eyes, looking up at him. He is looking back at me with loving eyes, but they seem concerned. "Are at least a few of those tears of joy?"

I nod. "But not all of them," I reply. I take a deep breath before I speak again shakily. "Districts 3, 4, and 8 staged an arena-break. Everyone's been killed. Annella, Jack, and Mouseface have all been disqualified," my voice breaks as I tear up again, "and they're being executed tomorrow. At noon."

Peeta's bright blue eyes turn as round as saucers. He was likely in the only place that he could have been where he would not have heard the Capitol's announcement firsthand. The protective dome around the roof seemed to muffle distinct voices, and we were too high up anyway. "Wow," he says, flabbergasted, horrified.

My face begins to crumple once more. "Shhhhh," Peeta says gently, taking me into his arms again. "Sshhhh," he softly traces circles in my hair. He doesn't say anything else, though. What can he say?

I continue to bawl in his arms. My relief that Prim is coming back is palpable, but it is concurrent with heartbreak at the loss of everything else- all of our Progress against the Capitol. I feel utter hopelessness- things have to be started over from scratch. I repeat the same things to Peeta that Haymitch did to me, and that I said to him just a minute ago. "We lost," I whisper, "It's over."

Peeta shakes his head. "No," he says. He puts his hands firmly on my shoulders, holding me to an arms' length away from him, and looks at me earnestly. "No, Katniss," he repeats, more emphatically. He shakes me ever-so-slightly. "We didn't lose because this isn't over. It isn't over to you, or to me. Or to Haymitch. Or to anybody else that was involved, or to anyone who wanted to be. And if the Capitol carries out that horrible injustice tomorrow at noon, if we can't stop them first, than there will be people watching that finally understand their deliberate cruelty for the first time. Tomorrow will be only the beginning."

There goes Peeta, saying the right thing again, reassuring me. But his words have my mind wandering a bit…and for the first time all day, I find myself smiling, just a little. I put my hands up to my shoulders, grasping the back of his hands with mine, before straightening my elbows, pulling our arms to our sides. I interlock my fingers with his.

"It _will_ be only the beginning," I repeat softly. "Something else is happening tomorrow. Apparently we're getting hitched. At four."

Peeta cocks an eyebrow, trying to be coy, but his eyes have already given him away- they're lit up like Christmas morning- well, as bright as any Christmas morning can possibly be without your brother there. He swings our arms back and forth. "Hmmm," he muses, attempting to be casual in spite of himself. "How about that."

"How about it." His expression is enough to make me grateful that he is the one I'm marrying, if I have to marry anyone at all. Though I've always been strong, or at least forced myself to be- when I'm with Peeta, I can be weak, I can break down in his arms like I did just now, and he won't look at me any differently. Since I've always needed to be strong for Prim, and for my Mom, I'm quickly realizing that it's a pretty priceless feeling. I couldn't have gone to anyone else but him today. I think about how I felt when I first found out that Prim was going into the arena, how I had to escape everyone I knew and be alone as I cried through it. I'll never have to do that anymore. It's tremendously comforting.

Peeta leans over and kisses my cheek, in a spot very close to the edge of my lips. "No matter what else happens tomorrow, I'm happy at how much I have 4:00 p.m. to look forward to, my fiancé," he says softly in my ear. Then he drops one of my hands but tightens his grip on the other one as he slowly leads me back inside.

When we get back to the 12th floor of the Training Center tower, we aren't alone. There are several people from the Capitol there, none of whom I recognize except for Cinna. I give him a gigantic hug, squeezing him fiercely. Cinna holds me for a minute but then gently lets me go.

"Hi Katniss. Hi Peeta," he gestures to the people behind him, "These are chefs in the Capitol bakery. They're here to help you honor your request from the wedding special that aired several weeks back." Cinna is looking at Peeta as he says this.

For a second, Peeta looks completely confused, but then realization becomes evident on his face. His eyes light up again- not quite as much as when I told him we were getting married tomorrow, but enough to let me know that this is a pretty cool thing. "Oh. Okay," he says, a little confused, but excited nonetheless.

Cinna continues. "They're going to need you to go with them. There's no way you'll be able to prepare everything by yourself; especially not for as many people as the Capitol has invited. So they're going to need you the rest of the evening to instruct them on what to do tomorrow, and get started with whatever prep work you need to complete tonight. And if you're going to be frosting the cake yourself, you'll need to do that sometime before tomorrow morning, too."

Peeta nods, with a look of determination on his face. "Okay, I guess I had better get to work." He walks over to me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. When I look up at him, I see that he has a thousand different expressions on his face at the same time. But the one that I see most is adoration; he has a slight smile on his lips. "I love you, Katniss. I'll come see you as soon as I'm done," he whispers.

I just nod, I only told Peeta willfully that I loved him today; surely he doesn't expect me to repeat it now in front of so many strangers? I even think that the words I have to say tomorrow, like 'I do,' will be easier. But I kiss my finger and gently touch his lips, giving him a little grin. This seems to satisfy him for now. He turns and walks away, with the rest of the Capitol bakers in tow.

Then it is just Cinna and I, and I ask him what the plans are for this evening. Cinna doesn't take long to fill me in. "It's the presentation of the victor," he explains. "Prim is with the rest of the prep team- she has been since this morning. She didn't sustain any significant injuries, so she hasn't needed to spend any time in the hospital wing. Since the Quell was only four days, we have enough time to fix her up by tonight," he explains. "The Gamemakers overwhelmingly felt that having a recap of the Games and talking about Prim's victory would be best _before_ the wedding, so that unfortunately doesn't leave us with much time. Peeta won't be able to attend, since he'll be busy in the bakery. Haymitch is appearing as Prim's mentor. So your attendance at the ceremonies is strictly optional. If you don't want to go, the Capitol will explain that you wanted to rest before your big day, since you were already assured that Prim would be by your side the next evening for the ceremony. But if you want to go, that's fine, too."

I hesitate. What I want, more than anything, is to spend time with Prim alone- hug her, cuddle up next to her, and talk about the last four days with her safely in my arms. But that won't happen until later tonight, whether I attend or not. And I hate the idea of sitting in the audience, without Peeta or Haymitch or anyone else beside me, and waving to the people of the Capitol, pretending to be thrilled about the Quell's outcome because I got my sister back. I am not.

I decide to solicit information from Cinna. "Have you talked to Prim about it yet? Does she want me to be there?"

Cinna responds carefully. "I've already spoken to her. She wants to spend time with you as soon as she can. But she knows it won't happen at the television special. So she understands either way."

_My sentiments exactly_. Tomorrow's going to be ridiculously long anyway, so I decide to decline, and Cinna nods in understanding. He adds, "Okay, then, Katniss, I'm going to get back to her. I'll send her to you as soon as I can."

I nod in reply. "Thanks for understanding. Make her beautiful, Cinna." He smiles at me and hugs me again before exiting the room.

Left alone, the special not to air for another couple of hours, I lay on the couch in the silent sitting room, thinking. About a lot of things, but one in particular. Something that Peeta mentioned about the planned executions by the Capitol. _If we can't stop them first_. I wonder what he means. Can we?


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41:

Unable to make any sense of my thoughts, I turn on the TV in the sitting room in anticipation of the presentation of the victor, though the broadcast isn't on yet- there's a silent countdown still reading over an hour to go before the programming starts. Though I have every intention of watching it, I had been up since four-something in the morning and experienced one of the more emotional days of my entire life. Being alone in the quiet makes me suddenly overwhelmingly tired, and I drift off to sleep within minutes.

It is a blessing, really. Because instead of scrutinizing and analyzing Prim on the broadcast, wondering if she is okay and trying to decipher her responses in a schmoozed interview, I wake up to Prim gently tapping on my leg. She had changed into her pajamas and taken off her makeup. Looking at her, I gasp.

Cinna and the prep team had done a lot in the short time that they had her- her hair is vibrant and shiny, she is free of any major cuts or blemishes, her skin is smooth and supple. Yet- she looks so _different_. She lost a bit of weight- not as much as most tributes- it was only four days after all, and she had more to eat than most thanks to the stash the alliance swiped at the Cornucopia. But she had less to lose to begin with, and the weight that she did lose had a huge effect on her- the bones of her face stick out more now, making her look- so much _older_. But it is the change behind her eyes that bothers me the most- something the prep team couldn't alter no matter how hard they tried- the Quell had taken away her innocence. The childlike wonder and naiveté that I loved in her expression has vanished. It was that expression that I had worked so hard to hold onto- taking the tesserae, volunteering in her place in last year's Games- and now it is gone. I hate the Capitol for that more than for any other reason.

"Prim," I squeak her name out, unsure of what to say. I go for the obvious, Mom-like question. "Are you all right?"

Prim gives me a sad little smile, a half-shrug. "Why wouldn't I be? I won, right?" I can hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

My anger at the Capitol intensifies- what have they done to my sister? I need to shake her out of this. Still lying on the couch, I jump to my feet and engulf her in my embrace, pulling her close for a hug. She accepts it, but the emotional wall that Prim has constructed around herself remains firmly in place even after I squeeze her tightly for several seconds. I briefly shudder, horrorstruck, as it occurs to me who she reminds me of- myself. My pre-Peeta self, anyway. Guarded. I try to reach out, say anything I can to make the wall crack. "Of course you wouldn't be. It was a dumb question- and I'm sorry that I asked. I was just trying to break the ice." I stroke Prim's hair gently, trying to let her know that I mean it.

She nods stiffly, softens just a little. "Does Peeta hate me?" She takes a deep breath. "Katniss, I would never have done- what I did- if I didn't really believe-….and- I feel, well, _horrible_…."

"No, Prim," I shake my head, interrupting her. "He doesn't hate you. He's upset, but he understands. Don't worry about that," I assure her. I clear my throat; try anything to lighten the subject. "Besides," I say, "I think he's looking forward to the wedding tomorrow."

Prim nods, but it's clear that my diversionary tactic is not going to work. She could care less about the formal event itself- at this point, I can hardly blame her, as I'm not sure how much I care about it either- though I can acknowledge that I love Peeta now, my view on marriage hasn't changed- and all of the nuances of the event itself bore me to death. I decide to try something else. Like ask her something that I really need to know the answer to.

"Prim," I begin, unsure of how to phrase my question, before deciding directness is the only way I know how to broach the subject, "Did you get on the hovercraft because of me?" I look at her seriously.

She nods. "Yes," she replies. But then she hesitates a moment. "But- Katniss, I'm glad I did, so I don't want you to feel bad about it." And for an instant, she softens more, and I recognize a flash of the old Prim.

I start to tear up, nodding vigorously. "Okay then," I reply. "I'm glad you did, too." Satisfied with her response, but in no way wanting to get more emotional than I am already, I shift gears again. "How did it go tonight?"

Prim shrugs. "It went okay, I guess." She hugs me this time, pulling me close and whispering very softly in my ear, "I think I said all the right things. I didn't hint as to how mad I was about Annella, and Jack, and Carrie…." But the emotion in her voice as she says their names says it all, at least to me. And once again I am reminded of my previous thoughts, Peeta's words. _If we can't stop them…._

"So….what should do we do about it?" I ask her vaguely.

She shrugs. "I have no idea. We'll have to talk about it later." I know what she's referring to- with people that might actually be able to help us, away from Capitol bugs. We can't be reckless. I let the subject drop and hug her one more time.

"I'm so glad to have you back," I lie. Because she's not completely back, as much as I want her to be. She never will be. And I will forever hate the Capitol for it.

Haymitch and Effie return to the floor some time later. Haymitch's mindset has remarkably improved- after all, he got to escort Prim into a Capitol arena filled with screaming people, and take credit for keeping at least one District 12 tribute alive the second year in a row. Prim and I ask Haymitch to the roof, and he grudgingly follows. When we get to the garden, I ask him the question that's been in and out of my mind since Peeta brought it up. "Can we stop what's planned for tomorrow?" His jaw drops a second before she realizes that I'm talking about the executions, not the wedding. But even after he realizes his mistake, his face hardens and he shakes his head emphatically.

"Absolutely not," Haymitch replies. "We don't have the manpower. This is exactly why the rebel attack failed- because the rebels didn't have patience. If we had waited until Districts 7 and 11 had a rebel stronghold, we might have had more of a chance of success. But the rebels got greedy- and look what happened. After today, we can't afford any more impulsive decisions- it's what got us into this mess in the first place. If we're ever going to win, we need to formulate a better strategy, think more long-term. It's a hopeless mission, Katniss. You need to recognize that and let it go."

"But," I interrupt him, "how are we going to get more people that want to be on our side, if we don't do anything now?"

Haymitch doesn't have an answer for that one, so he deflects the question. "Besides," he continues, "tomorrow is the day that the Capitol has been waiting for. All of the months of preparation for your wedding are going to assure that they have greater Peacekeeper presence than usual, that certain entrances/exits will be blocked off, that security will be heightened. It's just awful timing."

He has a point, as much as I don't want to admit it. But what then, I'm just supposed to watch the tributes executed? Just before putting on a fake smile for the Capitol citizens? And then Haymitch unknowingly attempts to answer my question.

"Katniss, they'll be keeping you so busy you won't even have time to watch it. Which is probably best anyway. Trust me. The rebellion needs to regroup at this point. I just hope they're smart enough to realize it." He gestures towards the stairs, indicating that the discussion is over.

Prim nods, thoughtful- she had been silent throughout the exchange, but it looks as though Haymitch has managed to convince her. He does make a compelling argument- and that's after numerous shots of liquor- it almost scares me how effective he would be sober. But I'm not likely to have to worry about that anytime soon.

Prim and I head downstairs, and thankfully she is receptive to us sleeping together- I can't stand the thought of not having my sister close to me tonight. Somehow, I hang onto the ridiculous notion that if I can just hug and comfort her during the night, that she'll magically wake up less hardened somehow. I fall asleep with Prim in my arms, clinging to her desperately. But I'm not asleep long when I'm awakened by Peeta kissing me softly on the cheek.

I look up at him in the dim light, sweaty from all of his efforts in the bakery, flour and icing in his hair, and to me he has never looked better. I smile, but I'm completely disoriented. "Wait," I whisper, "what time is it? Aren't I not supposed to see you today?"

Peeta's returning smile is warmer than the ovens he's been using. "It's before midnight," he replies. "11:52. I escaped for a few minutes so that I could see you before tomorrow."

"You're not done yet?"

"Oh, no, not even close," he replies. "I still have a lot of frosting to do. I was just wondering if there have been any…." He leans real close, whispers in my ear softly, "….plans made." He doesn't move away.

I whisper back, equally as quiet. "Haymitch talked us out of it. Said that the rebels don't have the strength yet to do anything but regroup."

"Maybe not…but we do. Come on, Katniss, they're not going to kill us. Look at the preparation they've put into our wedding. Think of the outrage that will happen if we're punished. So we jump up at the last minute, beg the Capitol to postpone the executions until after the wedding or we don't get married, and what choice do they have? They'll need to save face. We might pay for it later, but by that time the rebellion will be stronger." He is close enough and quiet enough that I don't worry that anyone will hear us.

Typical Peeta- wanting to fight with words instead of weapons. But he's right- and the thought that Peeta and I, alone, possess the power to take such drastic action- the thought gets me really excited. My heart starts racing as I think about the implications of all of this. It doesn't take me long. After a few seconds, I nod eagerly. "I'm in."

"Great," he murmurs softly, giving me a smile. "Let's meet outside the Remake center at 11:45. It will be easy for me to get away- I should be done at the bakery by then, and I doubt my prep team will need me yet- but you'll need to come up with something. Think you can manage?"

I nod fervently. I whisper to him, "Are you sure about this?" Though he has already managed to convince me that I am. I add, "You will be seeing me tomorrow before the wedding after all- hopefully it won't jinx us."

Peeta nods. "Absolutely," he whispers back. And then giving me a sexy look, he adds, "and Katniss, there isn't a superstition out there that will convince me that marrying you isn't the best idea ever." And with that, he leans in just a bit further for a kiss.

I still have my arms around Prim, who is sleeping peacefully next to me, rendering me utterly immobile. But I feel the raw passion within Peeta transfer to his searing lips, then to mine. Though nothing but our lips touch, it is, without a doubt, the hottest kiss we've ever shared.

With excitement over our plans for tomorrow morning- not to mention Peeta himself- I have a hard time getting back to sleep.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42:

I'm awoken at exactly 5:00 a.m. by my prep team.

"What?" I whine grouchily. "Can't you come back in a few hours?" I had an awful night's sleep.

But Flavius, Venia, and Octavia merely laugh. "We wanted to come an hour ago. Cinna made us wait. Today's a big, big day!" Flavius unintentionally does his best Effie impression.

Any other day, I would probably try to come up with some sort of counterargument- like that the ceremony is eleven hours away- but today, being the bride and all, I realize that it's futile. Defeated, I throw the covers off of the sitting room couch, after noting, surprisingly, that Prim isn't there. She must have woken up early.

"Where's Prim?" I ask accusingly. The prep team shrugs in bewilderment. "Well, can I at least find her before you take me?" I plead. Sensing they weren't going to win this one anyway, they nod their assent.

After a couple of minutes of searching the floor, Prim is nowhere to be found, so I try one last thing- the roof. To my immense relief, Prim is there, staring out over the Capitol landscape, watching the sun just beginning to rise.

Relieved, I don't bother her, but instead head back down to my prep team. I heave an audible sigh. "All right, do whatever you need to do to me, I guess. But I'll need to take a break at some point. For, um," I wrack my brain for an excuse to leave them that won't sound too obvious, "uh, lunch," I finish lamely.

The prep team all look at each other incredulously. "Oh, Katniss," Venia replies, "you can't eat lunch on your wedding day! Your stomach will expand! A couple of bites, so you don't pass out, max,….and we'll have it ready for you at the Remake Center, no need to leave."

_Well, there goes that._ I'll need to think of something else, but I have a little time. "Oh," I say softly. "Well, whatever."

The prep team, after escorting me to the Remake Center, begins their most invasive work yet, in preparation not for the wedding itself but for the wedding night. Though my leg hairs haven't had a chance to grow back in- leaving them no choice but to shave my legs- their waxing is far more intimate than usual. Tears in my eyes, I wonder how anyone could possibly do this to themselves voluntarily.

Once the hair removal phase is finished- and the process from head to toe takes hours- the focus shifts to improving the hair that's left. They painstakingly curl every hair on my head, one pinch at a time, until it is full of ringlets (_and what's the point,_ I wonder, _when_ _it's only going up anyway_). They comb my eyebrows and put some sort of sticky transparent base coat on my eyelashes. And when they move, uh, downward, they actually sort of _style_ the bit remaining, and spray it with a hint of some sort of glittery powder. I try to protest, but my requests go unanswered ('You don't want to scare him off, dear' is Octavia's reply- what am I supposed to say to that?)

Time ticks away. There is no clock in the Remake Center, so I keep asking Venia. "Five minutes after the last time you asked me," becomes her eventual reply. They haven't even dressed me or put on my makeup yet- at this point they are focused solely on my nails. I beg them to let me wear something, and Flavius eventually concedes and hands me a fluffy pink bathrobe.

By 11:30, I am ready to tear my newly-curled hair out. They aren't even close to finished! I'm ready to go meet Peeta and the prep team keeps blathering on about the tiniest wedding details while they work- how the pearls in the pins from the groomsmen's boutonnieres match my earrings, how the off-white color from the Capitol-provided roses was specially replicated for the tablecloths. I desperately try to think of a viable excuse for getting up and walking out; I'm running out of time. Unfortunately, my panic is preventing me from thinking clearly. Smoke break? No, I don't smoke. I want to see Prim? Nah- they'll just bring her right to me, she's coming a little later to meet me anyway. Then, all of a sudden, it hits me. The perfect idea. And it won't take much to put it into action.

I simply jump up in my already panicked state and pretend to hyperventilate. "I….don't….know….if….Icandothis," I gasp, breathless.

"What's wrong, dear?" Venia asks me concernedly.

"I….I….I'm too young to get married!" I scream. "I'm only seventeen years old! And….I…don't….know….ifIcangothroughwithit," my sporadic breathing enhances the effect. It's interesting- I _am_ too young to get married. But as the wedding has approached, and Peeta and I have gotten closer, I've gotten less apprehensive, not more- making the whole cold feet thing a complete ploy. But the prep team buys right in. All three of them immediately start trying to console me, giving me words of encouragement, telling me how great Peeta is. But I'm not having it- I shake my head violently and walk towards the remake exit, screaming that I need to get some air for a few minutes and to leave me alone. My performance, if I do say so myself, is worthy of some kind of an award.

As I push open the door, I realize that I am about to meet Peeta, not to mention go live to all of Panem, wearing nothing but a pink bathrobe, with my hair only half-styled. Thank God I could give a shit if it keeps Annella, Jack, and Mouseface alive.

But the second I see what's outside, I realize that we don't stand a chance. There is nothing but Peacekeeper after Peacekeeper lined up around the Remake Center, standing guard. Though none of them are carrying lethal weapons, they all are holding sticks of what I can only assume is electricity. They look remarkably like the cattle prod that the Capitol provided to the District 3 tributes in the Quell.

_Of course._ The obvious flaw in the plan. Why hadn't we seen it before? Peeta and I were assuming that we could swoop in and speak our peace, saving the day for one and all. The Capitol might not be able to prevent us from speaking our peace- Peeta had that part right- they would risk far too much in doing so. But they could sure as hell prevent us from swooping in. I look around, but don't see signs of Peeta anywhere. I hope that he's all right. Thankfully, I'm too far away from the Training Center to see the stage- I'm feeling helpless enough at the moment as it is.

I briefly wonder if I should try to run towards the Training Center anyway, screaming at the top of my lungs, before some Peacekeeper zaps me with his taser-thing. If I thought for a second that I would make it far enough to actually say something impactful, or that I would get picked up by a TV camera and broadcast to Panem, I probably would. But knowing the Capitol, to think that would be delusional. Instead, I turn around and head back inside the Remake Center, defeated. I fleetingly wonder again whether Peeta is okay, before realizing that he has to be- or at least he will be by 4 p.m. Prim and my mom, too. I suppose this failed plan was meant to be- though I am certain that the Capitol would spare us until 4:00 p.m. today, there would be no guarantees after that. These Peacekeepers probably just stopped Peeta and I from doing something really, really, stupid. I sigh, both in relief and in frustration.

When I come back, the prep team is somber, conversing in hushed whispers. I don't know if they were discussing my abrupt departure, or the upcoming executions, and I don't care. I sit back in the chair I had been sitting in so that the prep team can finish my hair and makeup. "Okay, I'm back," I say, a bit testily. "Sorry. I just needed a few minutes."

The prep team nods in understanding. "Um, Katniss, the broadcast at 12 is mandatory viewing for all Panem citizens….." Flavius begins nervously, "…um, so, we're going to have to switch on the TV over there." He gestures to a TV in the corner.

I nod stoically.

"But," he quickly adds, "We'll be doing your makeup anyway- we can have you face the other way. And we won't blast the volume too high."

I shrug. I am trying to make myself numb at this point.

They turn my chair around, and start with the application of my foundation- I'm only a teenager, for heaven's sake, I shouldn't need very much- but it takes a while anyway. As they work, I can faintly hear Caesar Flickerman's voice as he is doing his "pre-event" commentary. Something about a necessary tragedy, the greater good of Panem, etc. I roll my eyes.

I try my best to keep an emotional distance- it shouldn't be that hard, after all- I never even met Annella, Jack, or Mouseface. I have seen hundreds of tributes die in the Games in my lifetime- more if you count the previous Games that I watched to ready Prim for the Quell. After last year's games, I am about as desensitized to death as I could possibly ever be. This is just three more tributes. And really, while hanging isn't the best way to go out, I've seen worse. By far. I shudder as I think once again of Cato. But I can't turn my emotions off- glassy tears form in my eyes. Several times Flavius asks me if we need to take a break- he says he's concerned about my newly-applied foundation (not the tributes, of course), and I shake my head. I am simply unable to separate the execution of the tributes with the downfall of the alliance, the end of the rebellion, the loss of hope. It's entirely too much to put on the poor tributes' shoulders- and I realize it- but I do it anyway.

Then, suddenly, the audience gets loud in the background- they boo and cheer as if they were witnessing a pivotal play in a sporting match. I take their response, along with the hushed murmurs of the prep team as the application of my eyeshadow grinds to a halt, to mean that the tributes are being escorted onto the stage. My hunch is confirmed when I hear Caesar's voice rise. "Ladies and gentlemen, the event will start momentarily- please be patient. Though I bet the wait will not feel nearly as long for you as it does for those three tributes down there."

Since I can't see Caesar, I can't get a context of his words through his facial expressions and therefore have no idea what the intent is behind his statement. Was that sympathy in his voice?

There's no running commentary, really, I just hear faint sounds from the audience and a fairly consistent tapping sound- like the sound of wooden stairs being climbed by several sets of legs. The TV is then almost silent as I hear a few light rustles- the tributes being tied up? I can't tell. My eyes are closed as my eyemakeup application proceeds. But then Caesar speaks up once again.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears that this is the time. It looks like tributes are properly restrained and the tributes' punishment is about to be administered." He sounds so formal about it.

Right after he says it, I hear three terrified voices shout at the top of their lungs, in unison: "FUCK THE CAPITOL!" And, a moment later, a clatter and the unmistakable _whoosh_ of weight shifting as the floor drops out from under them.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43:

My prep team freezes, shell-shocked and horrified. It saddens me that their reaction is to the tribute's ugly (yet appropriate) words, and not to the Capitol's ugly sentencing. Octavia's jaw drops about three feet; Venia quickly sits and begins fanning herself with an oversized makeup brush. Flavius is the only one coherent enough to speak.

"_What_ did they say?" he asks incredulously.

"They said, '_Fuck the Capitol_'," I repeat, eyes prickling with tears. But at the same time, through my sadness, I'm smiling. It's fun to say that out loud, especially in front of my uptight prep team- they react all over again. And I realize that Peeta is right- it isn't over. I think about everyone I know back in District 12, what they all must be thinking after hearing that, what _I_ would have thought after hearing that for the first time, if I hadn't wanted to rebel already. The tributes will die, but they've just assured us all that the rebellion won't. For that, I'm infinitely grateful to them.

Having seen enough, the prep team flicks off the TV. That they wanted to watch the fanfare of the execution ceremony more than the gruesome deaths themselves relieves me to a certain extent; it allows me to look at the prep team in a slightly better light. A sense of closure seems to wash over the room. The prep team finishes my makeup and calls Cinna in. Cinna is to finish styling my hair as well as dress me. But as soon as he sees my face, he calls the prep team back.

"She's a seventeen-year-old girl, not a streetwalker!" he says, in a raised voice I'm not sure I've ever heard from him before; he looks anxious. "That's entirely too much eyemakeup!" I'm forced to sit there for another half hour as the prep team works frantically for the next half hour to correct their mistake.

Finally, I'm presented to Cinna again and he deems my makeup beautiful. "I'm sorry that I was so irritable," he apologizes to me calmly, "but this has been a very stressful day- on a lot of levels. I'm sure you can relate," he shoots me an understanding look. "Anyway, the prep team has a difficult time seeing natural beauty. I don't want you to look like anyone other than yourself. I want Peeta to see the real you," he explains, and then finally gives me a smile, running his fingers through my hair, getting started.

As Cinna works, Prim is escorted in to begin work with the prep team….with my mother! I want to jump up and crush her with a hug; unfortunately, Cinna has a firm grasp on a section of my hair; he greets my mom by kissing the air but otherwise makes no move to let me go. Instead, I just smile at my mother as she approaches my side (out of Cinna's way) and leans in as close as she dares to give me a half-embrace. She looks beyond thrilled that both of her daughters are still alive. In fact, she seems so happy that we're okay that she no longer seems upset in the least that her seventeen year-old daughter is about to get married (or perhaps she has simply come to the realization that there's nothing she can do about it).

Prim, on the other hand, is sullen, her big eyes red-rimmed and glassy, and says little as the prep team begins to fix her hair. My anger at the Capitol once again begins to rise; the old Prim would have absolutely loved the opportunity to get dolled up, have her hair styled by a team of people, wear a fancy dress, and be a maid-of-honor. But I try to push the negativity aside as quickly as possible; this is the first time in a while that our family has been in the same room together, and I have every intention of trying to make the experience pleasant- at least for my mom. Unfortunately, I don't have the ultimate control- I try to engage them both in conversation but only my mother responds- Prim just sits stiffly with her arms crossed. Seeing her that way reminds me again of myself, the first time I met my prep team. I try to shake it off.

When Cinna finally turns my chair around, so that I am looking in the mirror at my reflection, I am completely blown away. It is unlike any look that they've ever given me. I don't look like an intimidating warrior, or a beautiful otherworldly creature, or a little girl- I look like an angel. Soft features, pale glowing skin, light pink lips. My hair is gorgeous- it reminds me a lot of the style my mother gave me for the reaping, but with carefully placed ringlets instead of braids, elevating its sophistication. I look like the most beautiful possible version of myself. I look like a bride. And I'm not even in my dress yet.

"Do you like it?" Cinna whispers.

I can't think of anything to say in response- I just nod my head vigorously. My mom, who is getting her hair styled by Octavia, immediately bursts out crying. Even Prim looks over at me from under Flavius's busy arms, and I can see her eyes soften as she gives me a genuine smile. "You look beautiful, Katniss," she says. The other emotions aren't gone, but she's managed to push them back for a second.

It means a lot, and I find myself fighting tears- and I can't even figure out why, they could be for so many reasons. "Thank you," I whisper to all of them.

Cinna helps me out of my bathrobe and into my dress- the long-sleeved satin one with pearls, and carefully adds my veil, shoes, and jewelry. He shows me my reflection in the mirror again.

"So, the dress, shoes, veil, and earrings are your something new…." He begins.

What he's saying sounds familiar, but I don't entirely know the tradition. I'm intrigued. "What else is there again?" I ask.

"Well," Cinna replies, "You need something old. Like this," he flourishes my mockingjay pin, affixing it towards the neck of my dress, almost like a brooch. It looks a little out of place, but I could care less- it completes me somehow. I clasp it tightly in my grip, bringing it to my lips, kissing it.

"Thank you," I say again.

"I'm glad you like it. You can thank your sister," Cinna smiles. "It's also your something borrowed."

"So that leaves…." I pause. Old, new, borrowed. Finally, a flash of recognition. "Blue?" I ask. I think back to how I would remember that. A previous wedding at the Capitol?

"Yes, that's right," Cinna affirms. When I look at him questioningly, as if to say, '_Well, where is it?_' he responds by lifting the bottom of my dress, revealing its many underlayers. Cinna points to an area that looks darker and texturally a little out of place, and I realize it's because he's sewn on a couple of patches. Both blue. I recognize them immediately. The first- the blue from my mother's dress that I wore on Reaping Day. The second- blue from Prim's snowsuit that she wore in the Quell. I gasp.

Meanwhile, my mom and Prim had approached; apparently they had managed to wrangle themselves away from the prep team's grasp for a minute. When I see that they're right behind me, I give them a group hug, wrapping an arm tightly around each one of them. That they sacrificed those garments so that I would have a silly tradition fulfilled is so incredibly selfless of them. But it means something else- they'll be standing beside me at the altar, but now I'll feel like they're with me all day, even when they're not around. "Thank you, they're perfect," I repeat. My mom kisses me on the cheek and bawls until the prep team warns her that her makeup will take twice as long. Prim's eyes are still sad, but she does her best to flash me a smile.

I am ready, and my sister and mother are not, and at this point it's after 2:30, so I am whisked away for a private photography session while Prim and my mother are attended to by Cinna and the prep team. I space out while the photographer takes my picture again and again- why do they need so many shots?- and why do they need me from so many angles? I could care less, and I can't bring myself to smile brilliantly like the photographer instructs. But I do smile genuinely when Prim and my mother are escorted back to me to be a part of the shoot- I'm thrilled that we'll get to spend a little more time together before the ceremony. Prim's bright blond hair is now in a stunning hairstyle, and her makeup young and fresh; my mom looks as pretty as I've ever seen her. But my smile fades when I look at their red dresses. The red is the color of blood.

We have our pictures taken until an attendant at the Capitol tells us that it's time to head towards the Training Center, where they apparently have transformed the execution stage into an altar for the wedding. We oblige, and I wonder if they pulled it off. When we get there, there are a couple of minutes to go before the ceremony is supposed to start and we're told to just hang tight in a curtained area off of the stage. Capitol workers are running around at top speed, one of them was assigned specifically to check on the three of us. As in, make sure our makeup hasn't smudged, that our dresses are immaculate, that we don't have a hair out of place. But we don't have to do anything but wait. After a minute, a florist comes to meet us and hands us gigantic bouquets of flowers. Prim's and my mother's are red; mine are, of course, white. But President Snow took mercy on me, or doesn't want to distract me or something, because these particular roses are odorless. Thank God for small favors.

They tell me it's time to slowly follow the carpet up the stairs to the stage, one step at a time. I give Prim another quick hug and kiss before she is sent out. My mother links her arm in mine, grasping my hand tightly, so I'm left to hold the roses with one hand- and they're heavy. We slowly begin to walk.

That's the thing about not getting caught up in wedding details. I don't notice or care about the type of runner that we walk on. I don't listen to the music- I don't even know what song is playing as my mom and I slowly step up onto the stage. I don't pay any attention to the expensive floral arrangements, which seem to be everywhere. We pass row after row of seated people on long pews, but I don't once look at them- I doubt anyone that I care about is sitting there anyway, they're all in front of or beside me. I don't concentrate on the multiple photographers snapping pictures, flashbulbs erupting. I don't take time to examine the even more elaborate floral arrangements at the altar, take a look at the minister or whoever will be performing the ceremony, or even acknowledge anybody else on stage.

All I see….is Peeta.


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: Well, maybe this will be just a little longer than I thought. Don't worry, I'll let you know when I'm done :)

Chapter 44:

When I see Peeta, I find that I am unable to look away. He is dressed well, looks good- but I don't take much notice to any of that. It's his expression that captivates me. As he watches me his eyes are completely lit up - like he is the luckiest guy in the world- and underneath the awe written out on his face is a look of the purest love and devotion. It becomes crystal clear in my mind; this is what Peeta wants, and he'll do anything for me. I think of Haymitch's words in reference to marrying me. _He_ _wants it to be real._ Well, here it is. It may not have been my idea, but I don't think it can get any more real than me walking towards him in a white dress, ready to say vows that will bond me to him forever. Maybe this wedding is supposed to be for show- but it sure doesn't feel like it.

My mom says something to the priest or officiant or whoever and moves away from me, unclasping her hand from mine and sitting down in the first row. I immediately shift my hand to relieve the other one of the entire weight of my extraordinarily heavy bouquet. Peeta scoots in and stands next to me. As he does, the groomsmen- Paca, along with Haymitch and Cinna- become visible in my eye line. Paca looks devastated, but is standing strong for his brother- well, both of them. I've never seen Haymitch or Cinna look better- they are dressed in tuxedos, clean-shaven, and impeccably groomed- even Cinna's gold eyeliner looks more dazzling than usual. Haymitch is actually sober and gives me a little grin. The priest begins speaking about love and devotion and humans and the beginning of time. I don't even pay the tiniest bit of attention.

As I stand there next to Peeta, my mind unexpectedly wanders to the macabre, until all I can think about is the fact that Annella, Mouseface, and Jack were standing on this stage just a few short hours ago, cruelly being put to their deaths. We are standing on plush runners, but surely somewhere just underneath us are the trapdoors that released the tributes until they were hanging in the air. The frenzy of last-minute wedding preparations that were thrust upon me, along with seeing my mother and Prim, robbed me of the chance to mourn them. It seems strange to want to do it now, in the middle of my wedding ceremony. But standing where the executions actually happened makes it impossible for me to not think about the tributes, and I feel compelled to thank them again, for sacrificing their lives for the rebellion- whether they intended to or not. I make a steadfast promise to them, and to myself, that their deaths won't be in vain. And as I do, tears begin to fill my eyes, and the weight of the dozens of roses in my hands feels even heavier as my arms begin to shake. The priest is still drabbling on about marriage traditions of the distant past.

Just then, I catch Peeta looking at me out of the corner of my eye, and he tilts his head just a bit so that he can see me better. In his expression, I see complete understanding- he knows I'm not tearing up because of what the minister is saying. He gently puts his hand under my chin, taking in my face with his sympathetic eyes, and then moves his hand down, gently freeing the weighty bouquet from my grasp and moving it to his other hand, out of the way. He then takes my hand in his, gripping it tightly.

To me, it is reminiscent of the first tribute parade in the Games. He's strong and steady now, just like he was then, and in his touch I feel the warmth and comfort I'd pushed away for most of my life- or at least, after my father had died. His hand in mine tells me more than he can say- that he'll always be there for me, that we'll get through this together, that we've been through so much already. But it looks like he's about to get the opportunity to say it all anyway. The priest tells us it's time for our vows. Peeta reaches over and hands my bouquet to Prim, and then faces me, taking both of my hands in his.

The preist tells us that we can repeat the vows that he has prepared, or say our own. Peeta is to go first, and being the natural orator, of course he chooses to speak freely. I brace myself for a long scripted speech, filled with dramatic pauses for effect, as much for Panem and the Capitol audience as it is for me. But instead, he says simply, looking right into my eyes, "Katniss, I've had a crush on you since we were five, and I've been dreaming about this moment ever since. Since we've gotten closer, I can say with 100% certainty that I am more in love with you than ever. I know you might not feel the same way, but I promise you that every day for the rest of our lives I will try my absolute hardest to convince you that you're making the right decision. I will never hurt or abandon you, and I will love you, every single day. No matter what. Forever." His voice is shaky as he finishes. It looks like he is holding back tears.

It takes less than a minute. A few lines are all he says. But they're straight from his heart, and though they're simple words, they say it all. I am speechless.

Then the priest mumbles something, and all of a sudden everyone is looking at me, waiting expectantly. Once again I'm transported in time, to when I'm sitting on this very stage after Caesar had asked me my first interview question, and I had no idea what he had said. Though this time, I'm pretty sure of what the priest has inquired. Do I want to repeat the vows he has prepared or say my own?

Truthfully, I want to do neither; I'm not good with words like Peeta is, although repeating generic vows will sound so much worse now that Peeta has already poured his heart out. I clear my throat. "Um," I begin, stalling for time. "Um," I say again, "The second part- of what he said." This is all I manage to get out. But it's about as honest I can be. After all, I don't feel the same way that Peeta does- I haven't had a crush on him forever, and I haven't exactly been waiting for this moment. But I'll love him. Forever is a long time, but it starts with only a day, right? I love him today. And I'm as sure as I can be that I'll love him tomorrow.

Since my response sounded awful, the priest paraphrases Peeta's last few lines, in the form of questions (thankfully he was paying attention), and I nod and say 'yes' and 'I do'. When we're done, Paca approaches us and hands the priest the rings. Thankfully, this time we both have lines that we're supposed to say, so I don't have to worry so much about fumbling over my words or sounding uncouth next to Peeta. I have a hard time lifting Peeta's ring off of the pillow because my hands are trembling so much. But Peeta smiles at me reassuringly, and I feel better, and my hands stop shaking long enough for me to slip a plain silver-looking band around his finger. He reciprocates with a stunning diamond wedding ring for me, while looking into my eyes and repeating the vows, promising me everything he can.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a flash. Effie gets up and reads some ridiculous poem about love, written by a 'famous Capitol writer' (she doesn't specify the name so I'm pretty sure no one has ever heard of him). Peeta and I light a candle. The priest says some more cheesy lines drawing parallels between love and a flower, or something. And then- he pronounces Peeta and I husband and wife. And tells Peeta that he can kiss me. Which he does. Eagerly.

I've never seen so much buildup for a single kiss. Peeta leans in and passionately presses his lips to mine, tenderly cupping my face in his hands, and I wrap my arms around his waist, kissing him back. Thankfully, the kiss is pretty similar to numerous ones that we've already shared, which it makes it fairly easy for Peeta and I to relax. It's comfortable, familiar, safe- and well, great. But it's a little strange and nerve-wracking, too. Because it's so formal, and in front of so many people. And because it means something entirely different now.

When we finish, we turn around to address the crowd as we're waiting for the priest to introduce us as husband and wife. I expect to see a crowd of haughty Capitol citizens. To that end, I'm not surprised. I also see my prep team, President Snow, Caesar, the Gamemakers. But what I else I find shocks me. In addition to the Capitol audience, everyone from District 12 is there. The rest of Peeta's family. Greasy Sae- along with a few other people I used to see at the Hob. Mayor Undersee and Madge. And when I mean everyone, I mean _everyone_.

The Hawthorne family. And Gale.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45:

My immediate reaction to seeing everyone from District 12 present at the ceremony is one that brings me right back into the Hunger Games- I wonder _why_. Though I am thrilled to see so many familiar faces, the wheels are turning in my head, trying to understand President Snow's motivation behind bringing everyone I love all the way from District 12 for the occasion. He certainly didn't have to, and the people of Panem would be none the wiser. Was he planning to simply feature them prominently on the telecast, so that everyone watching would understand his 'generosity'? And while it sounds ludicrous (and self-centered), another thought occurs to me- could President Snow be doing this- at least in part- to somehow mess with Gale's mind? I think of the words that Gale said to me last: _It should have been us_. Could this visit actually be some sort of punishment directed at him? I try to reverse the situation, picture him marrying someone else- and I still can't. But I quickly dismiss both theories. Somehow, I suspect it goes much deeper than that.

It doesn't take me long to reach the conclusion that I think Snow is trying to send me a message- the same way that Haymitch used to in the Games. What was going on when Peeta and I received our luxurious Capitol dinner of lamb stew, rolls, apples, and goat cheese? Oh, that's right- Haymitch was rewarding me for amping up the romance. So it makes sense to assume that President Snow was rewarding us somehow, too. But for what?

I stiffen as I realize that there can only be one possible answer to that question- and that it's painfully obvious. _For not participating in the rebellion._ His message now couldn't be clearer: Fight us, and you'll be severely punished- hung, executed. Hold back, and we'll reward you. In my case, with the chance to spend your wedding with all of the people that matter to you the most. In that moment, despite being on the beneficial end of Snow's unspoken ultimatum, I regret not doing more, not trying to rally our district somehow- for the tributes, for the rebels.

But I don't have time to dwell on these thoughts. Peeta and I walk past everyone on our way off the stage- I don't make eye contact with Gale, I am not prepared to deal with his reaction- and we are quickly guided to a number of outdoor locations for pictures. Though I could care less about the photographs, having Peeta close is nice- we are told to hug and kiss and hold hands for the cameras- and we have that routine down pat. But every time I look at him I feel a little flutter in my chest- he's my husband now. This is a big deal. I didn't want to think about marriage before because I knew that it was serious, that it would change things. It hasn't fully hit me yet, but still- I was right.

After pictures, the two of us are escorted into President Snow's mansion to the banquet room for our reception. Someone announces our name (which I almost don't recognize- Katniss Mellark?- whoa), and people cheer and scream hysterically as we enter- it reminds me of the audience reaction to our Hunger Games interviews- the star-crossed lovers finally emerge as husband and wife, and the Capitol citizens can't get enough. By this time, all of the reception guests are seated at large round tables, complete with fancy linens, towering centerpieces, and delicate china (though once again, I pay scant attention to the specifics- did I even pick those?). There are at least 10-15 people per table, and tables stretch as far as I can see- there must be almost a thousand people in here. We are led to a much smaller table in the front of the room, set for two, with fancy chairs and lots of roses. I scan the room for people that I know, and find Prim, my mother, Paca, and Peeta's mom and dad in the table immediately adjacent to ours- but no one else. I wonder if the Hawthornes and the rest of the District 12 members were excluded from the reception; though still huge, this is clearly a smaller area than the stage outside of the Training Center. But they could be at a table across the room; I have no way of knowing.

Our chairs are pulled out for us, inviting us to sit down, and we do. Silverware clinks against glasses and I don't know what that means until Peeta grins and murmurs in my ear that we're meant to kiss every time we hear it. I laugh out loud, thinking that he's joking, until I see hundreds of eyes keenly staring up at us. Oh, well, whatever, this is becoming old hat by now. Peeta and I kiss to thunderous applause, whistles, and cheers, as well as several more clinks of glasses, prompting us to keep going. But somehow it still feels different. Peeta is mine now- I see the glint of his wedding ring as he gently touches my jawline with his left hand.

Apparently it is now time to start eating- Avox after Avox begins bringing light appetizers out to the tables- cheese and fruit, bottles of wine, baskets of bread. When they finally reach our table, the last one served, the loaf that they set down is completely scorched on one side. I look at Peeta, and he gives me a sad smile. "I'll give you bread every day for the rest of our lives, Katniss- if you want me to," he says solemnly.

I don't say anything, just nod slowly as my eyes threaten to fill with tears. But before they do, I notice something else- several Avoxes wheeling something bulky and heavy and rectangular across the room, covered in a large silver tablecloth. When they finally position it in front of us, and ceremoniously remove the cover, I find myself staring at….a portable fireplace? I look back at Peeta in confusion.

But he's smiling knowingly. "We're not in our new place yet," he explains, "but I really wanted to do this anyway- I asked them to bring it out first. C'mon," He gets up out of his seat and gestures for me to join him.

Of course. Peeta and I begin to build the fire with some of the supplies brought out by another Avox carrying a large basket. After we get the fire going, we break off the un-singed end of the bread and begin to toast it. The Capitol plays the song that we sing in District 12 as the newly married couple crosses the threshold to their new home. While the vast majority of the audience looks at us during all of this as if we've each grown another head, I can hear loud shouting from the far end of the room- as well as right next to us- and I know then that our families and the District 12 guests are singing along. They're here. I grin. Briefly, I wonder if Gale is singing with them, and my grin fades. But then I shake my head, shake it off. Of course he wouldn't.

When the toast is done, Peeta delicately places a small piece in my mouth, his other hand back on my jaw. One thing is for certain: he will be a devoted, loving husband. Once again, I feel unworthy of the boy with the bread. But I feed him and smile at him and touch his face, and he looks like he is in heaven.

Some Avoxes wheel the fireplace away, others circle with orange juice and hot chocolate in crystal champagne glasses, and still others start to bring out the main dishes. Which is good- because I'm _starving_- I've had only a bite or two to eat all day. They pull off the fancy silver platter covers with a flourish as they set dishes on each table revealing gorgeous arrangements of food- bowls of creamy pumpkin soup, tiny plates of roasted chicken with orange sauce, and- of course- tureens of lamb stew and dried plums over wild rice. The tureen looks exactly like the one that Peeta and I received in the Games- back when things were forced between us and our actions were entirely for the Capitol and not ourselves. That feels like so very long ago.

The room becomes fairly quiet as the light dims and people begin eating. Capitol music comes on softly in the background, but mostly I hear the clinking of silverware on plates, low conversations with neighbors. As we dine, my thoughts begin to wander- to the cave where Peeta and I slept in the arena, the intimate yet so public setting- it feels a bit like that now. It is easy here to effectively block out the surrounding white noise, and exist in a world with just him- the two of us sitting at a small table- we could be anywhere, chit-chatting about anything. But Peeta and I just sit there, silently eating, as the realization continues to kick in. This is how it will be. Us. We're married. We're _married_. I finally have time to absorb the full impact of it.

The Capitol gives us a while to eat, and the conversations around us grow steadily louder. Several people get up and begin to mingle with guests at other tables. Eventually, the Avoxes take away the dinner plates and start to bring out dessert. They place a miniature goat cheese and apple tart on a small dessert plate at the setting for each guest, prompting anyone that had left their seat to return to them- the tarts smell delectable. The Avoxes then signal to Peeta, who gives a cursory nod of his head.

They wheel out our wedding cake. And after I take several moments to look at it, I break down crying in Peeta's arms.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46:

_Get a grip on yourself, Katniss,_ my subconscious screams at me, _you're crying over a cake. A cake!_ Haymitch might have to amend his earlier statement about me not crying over just anything. But I can't help it- it's just so…

The cake is enormous, enough to feed everyone there, no doubt- and it is so huge in surface area, with so many large square tiers, that it doesn't even rest on a table but on a wide but squat cake stand right off of the floor. Each tier is separated with pillars and frosted with something different- though all of them unquestioningly are with Peeta's hands, his touch. The colors of icing pulse with life; the images are so intricately detailed I wonder how they could possibly be frosting at all- they look like brilliant, vibrant photographs. In fact, they are remarkably similar to the paintings that he showed me of last year's Games. But they aren't of last year's Games.

The top tier is relatively tiny- designed for Peeta and me to share- and shows the two of us lounging on my bed back home, working on my family's plant book. Though there were probably at least a hundred more romantic, dramatic, and/or emotional moments that Peeta and I shared in our time together, this is one of the only ones that has next to nothing to do with the Capitol or the Games- and for that reason, it's my favorite. And while I'm not sure it would rank nearly as high on Peeta's list (especially with all of the kissing we've been doing lately), he knew to put it in there anyway, for _me_. And to me, it represents- well, not only the best of our past, but hopefully, the best of what our life might be like in the future- uneventful, peaceful, _normal_. That's assuming that the rebels eventually prevail over the Capitol, of course. I doubt I could ever truly feel at peace before then.

But it's the other tiers that spark my attention. The largest tier is one of Prim, my mother, and I standing outside of our home in Victor's village. It was simply a family moment, sometime in the months of us preparing for the Quell, captured through Peeta's eyes. At the time, it carried no particular significance to me- it appears that the three of us are just talking- but what I immediately notice about the image is that through our facial expressions and body language, you can see our three distinct personalities perfectly. My mother, loving in the way her arms touch both Prim and I, but broken in her slightly vacant stare; myself, defiant in the way my arms are crossed but tender in the way I am leaning down towards Prim; and Prim herself, happy and wide-eyed, open to the two of us, open to anyone. Astonishingly, Peeta has even managed to capture the pre-Quell expression in Prim's eyes- one of pureness and light and childish innocence- that I now desperately wish I could still see.

Though the size of that particular tier draws the most attention, the other smaller and slightly more hidden tiers tell me even more. There is a tier featuring an image of Paavo and Prim, laughing together- presumably after Haymitch had told them something ridiculous during the course of their training. But the particular tier that had set off my eruption of emotions was one of the smallest, positioned with the shortest pillars above it so that it was the one most difficult to see. It had a picture of Annella, Mouseface, Jack in the Quell, looking at Prim with smiles on their faces, somewhere in the interim of defeating the rest of the tributes and hearing the awful Gamemaker announcement. Seeing their happy and hopeful images on the cake, as opposed to the horrific ones I had in my mind of them hanging to their deaths, allowed me to finally feel the sense of closure I had been searching for all day. It was kind of like going to a funeral of someone who was really sick, and looking at them, fixed up and resting peacefully in their casket, finally not suffering anymore.

Was this the most romantic gesture that Peeta has ever done for me? No. But thinking about him working dead into the night to create this- for me, for us, for everyone- it is by far one of the most touching, the most moving, the most loving. And when I look up at him I see that he has tears in his eyes, too.

"How did you _do_ this?" I whisper in awe at him, wiping at my eyes, amazement taking over sadness.

He just gives me a little smile. "It's what I do- like you going hunting, Katniss. And I needed to do it for me, too- especially the one of-," his voice cracks as he says _Paavo_, "to keep the nightmares away. But I also had a lot of help from the talented Capitol bakers. I showed them how to do all of the frosting in the background so that I could focus on the people, the faces."

I glance back down at the cake again, examining his painstakingly hard work. When I look back up, I see that we aren't alone. Prim is standing right next to us, clearly emotional from his gesture, too. Her bottom lip trembles and her breathing escapes as ragged bursts as tears begin to fall down her cheeks. Sensing what she's going to do, I gently pull away from Peeta so that Prim can jump into his arms.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers to him. He holds her tight as she sobs into his sleeve. She sniffles. "Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Peeta just keeps holding her, softly stroking her back. "Sshhhhh," he reassures her, "You did what you thought you had to do. There's nothing to forgive."

By this point Avoxes had appeared with a knife, plates, champagne- Peeta is forced to let Prim go, who nods and quietly sits down in her seat at the next table. Peeta turns his attention back to me.

Though a little redundant to the bread-toasting, this time the Capitol audience shouts and cheers as Peeta and I slice our first piece of cake, feeding it to each other caringly. We raise our glasses as Haymitch takes a microphone and begins to speak to the crowd, and to Peeta and me. He gives us a little smile as he tells everyone the story about Peeta pulling him aside at last year's Games, requesting that we train separately as he prepared to reveal his true feelings for me, and how he could see the magnitude of Peeta's love for me way back then. The audience goes crazy. We all clink glasses and I taste the fancy champagne. Unlike the harsh liquor or bitter wine I had tried earlier, I love the sweetness and fizziness of the drink, and I proceed to polish off every last drop before the glasses are quickly collected and Peeta and I are ushered out onto the dance floor.

They announce Peeta and I's first dance as husband and wife, and the music comes on- Peeta must have requested it, this version is instrumental but I recognize the melody as a song that I used to sing to Prim back in District 12. The lights on Peeta and me remain bright but we can see them dim all around us. Peeta wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me close as I reach my arms up to the back of his neck and we begin to sway slowly to the music.

Our first dance is- and there's really no other way to describe it- _sensual_. The sides of our faces gently brush up against each other and I can feel his hot breath ticking my ear- the presence of my fancy dangling earrings (which I never wear) only heightens the sensation. Even though he's showered, I can still somehow smell traces of dough and bread and vanilla from the bakery last night. But he's also wearing just a hint of some sort of aftershave, and the subtle scents mixing in my nose are completely intoxicating. Our bodies press really closely to each other, so close that I can feel his heartbeat when I choose to ignore everything else- and it thumps along in a rhythm much faster than the music. The way that our bodies are touching, combined with the way that our bodies are _moving_, make me hyper-aware of the feel of the satiny dress brushing against my skin, leaving my oversensitive nerve endings tingling for more. I don't know if the champagne has anything to do with it or what, but they way that we're dancing is beginning to make me a little dizzy, lightheaded.

Peeta pulls his head back slightly so that he can see my face, and he takes one hand off of my waist to cup my chin with a couple of his fingers. "Have I told you how absolutely beautiful you look today, my wife?" his voice cracks as he says it and is full of disbelief.

I flush, interpreting his incredulous tone to mean that he's amazed that we're finally married, not amazed that I look beautiful (at least, I hope so). Before I have the chance to doubt myself, he follows it up, dashing any uncertainty.

"I still can't believe that I'm lucky enough to be in your life this way." His fingers are still on my chin and he gently directs it upwards towards his face, leaning in for a kiss. It's short but searing- he feels warmer than normal- and when he pulls away, all too soon, my lips throb, feeling somehow abandoned. But that feeling is quickly replaced when he pulls me even closer, pressing me even more tightly against him. We continue to slowly rock back and forth, blocking everyone and everything else out.

A tap on my shoulder from behind a few minutes later breaks me from my daze. I suddenly notice that the music is different, and that dozens of people are moving onto the dance floor. Peeta and I had danced right through the end of our first song without realizing it.

I am still registering this fact when I feel another, more persistent tap, along with the words, "Mind if I cut in?"

I don't have to turn around to see who it is.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47:

I do eventually turn around, knowing who I will see, but not knowing what to expect.

To Peeta's credit, he doesn't flinch as Gale faces me and reaches out his arm in a sweeping motion, gesturing to the dance floor. He just nods brusquely, acknowledging Gale's presence with a hello and a smile, and then turns to me and says, "Go ahead, I'll see you in a few minutes." But the intensity of his short good-bye kiss, coupled with the way that his hand grabs my own, finding my ring and twisting it around with his thumb and forefinger, couldn't have sent a clearer message to Gale.

_Watch it. She's married now._

Peeta turns and walks away, leaving Gale and I by ourselves but not exactly alone- there are people all around us dancing. I have never slow-danced with Gale before, either- it definitely doesn't seem like his thing- but I'm guessing that he doesn't want to waste what might be the only opportunity that he has to talk to me.

Gale takes my hand and we scoot over a couple of steps to a less crowded area of the dance floor before he takes me in his arms, draping his hands around my body, trying to pull me close, a little _too_ close. I encircle my arms around his neck but find myself fighting to keep some distance, pushing his shoulders away rather than pulling them towards me. The little tug-of-war continues for a few moments until I look at him knowingly and shake my head. He simply smiles, leaning his head down to be closer to mine but keeping the distance between our bodies a respectable few inches. I concede.

We awkwardly sway back and forth. Gale might be agile and graceful in the forest, but that agility clearly does not extend to the dance floor in the way you might expect. We are silent for nearly a minute when eventually he sighs.

"It's been a few weeks; you'd think I'd know what to say," Gale confesses, whispering towards my ear, before resting his chin atop my head. I simply nod. He was one up on me- I couldn't get words to escape my mouth at all. "Don't worry, I'm not here to cause trouble," Gale continues, a bitter yet resigned edge to his voice. He then adds begrudgingly, "I promised everyone in my family that I wouldn't. They're all keeping an eye on me. I'm sure that they're watching us dance now."

"I doubt they're the only ones," I reply. I can almost feel Peeta's eyes lingering on us, but I can't spot him in the crowd from where I'm currently standing.

Gale nods in acknowledgement, and then sighs again. A few times. He doesn't say anything at first, but then he pulls back, looking at me. His features twist painfully on his face as he mutters, "He really makes you happy, doesn't he?"

He's hurt, and I don't want to hurt him more. But I have to be honest. I nod. Peeta does make me happy. And more importantly, I know that he _will _make me happy. My nodding becomes more fervent, and I try to elaborate. "Yes," I whisper. I find a little lump in my throat prevents me from saying anything more than that. But I suppose that's all the elaboration that Gale needs anyway.

I see his eyes start to glass up just a bit, though he seems entirely in control. He just asks me, with a sad smile, "You remember what I said the last time I saw you?"

I nod. _It should have been us._ I have thought about those words for a long time. I take a deep breath and clear my throat. "Maybe it should have been us, Gale-," I begin, then hesitate, the words stuck on my tongue for a second, "…but it wasn't," I finish weakly. It was true. In life there are a lot of choices that aren't made because other ones are. And maybe Peeta wasn't my original choice- my initial choice would have been not to marry at all- and perhaps Gale and I would have eventually ended up together if I hadn't been thrown into the Games. But that's impossible to predict- and none of it matters now anyway, because I _had_ been thrown into the Games. "I hope that you'll be able to accept that," I say, my voice just a little stronger.

He sighs, then looks at me, his eyebrow crooked. "I guess I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

I shake my head. "But I want you to be happy, too," I hastily add. Then my mouth spreads up just slightly on one side. "Well- as happy as you can ever be." That was the thing about Gale.

Gale flashes me a little half-grin back, though the glassiness hadn't entirely disappeared from his eyes. "I'm glad that you're happy, Catnip," he replies, choking out the words a little. But then his face hardens and his voice lowers. "But if you're ever, uh- not happy- because of him, you come and see me," his voice sounds downright menacing now, "and I'll take care of it."

I smile. I doubt that I will never need him in that capacity- if anyone is more vulnerable in our coupling, it's Peeta. And speak of the devil; it is at that moment that I notice him across the room, glancing over at us. He is trying hard to be distracted, conversing with Madge and Mayor Undersee, but his eyes keep darting back to Gale and me. I smile at him and wave, but then turn back to Gale, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks, Gale," I say, very quietly.

The song ends a moment later, much to Peeta's relief it seems- I see him out of the corner of my eye easing his way through the crowd back to us. When he returns, Gale does something incredibly uncharacteristic- he sticks out his hand for Peeta to shake. Peeta obliges.

"Congratulations," Gale says, with sincerity in his tone that I don't question. He looks Peeta straight in the eye and says very clearly, "You'd better take care of her, Peeta. And if you don't, then I will."

Peeta looks surprised at his directness, but swallows and nods his head nervously, vigorously. "I will," he says, serious. He looks a bit like he's repeating his vows, and I smile.

Gale says goodbye and turns away just as another song comes on. This time, it's a fast dance, and Peeta leads me out there again. Whereas Gale and I have the distinct advantage with our movements in the woods, Peeta can school us both on the dance floor- years of dances that Peeta attended and Gale and I skipped paid off for him. I'm awkward and uncoordinated, but Peeta doesn't mind, and he makes me laugh. Perhaps I should feel embarrassed, as ungraceful as I am dancing with him, being the center of attention, but I've managed to consume another two glasses of champagne, which officially puts me into the I don't care what other people think category. I just laugh and try to keep up with him for the next few songs.

Peeta and I spend time together, but we also spend time apart. We know that after tonight our families will be gone, and that we'll be staying by ourselves for at least another week in the honeymoon suite. So while we want to enjoy our reception together, we don't want it to be at the price of excluding our family and closest friends.

So when the next round of slow dances begins, Peeta and I separate, Peeta asking Prim to dance, and me taking Cinna's outstretched arms. I hug him as we're dancing and thank him for making me look stunning on my wedding day, and he's as eloquent and considerate as always. I dance with Haymitch, who by this point has been drinking the finest Capitol spirits for hours, and he slurs quietly in my ear that he will talk to me after the honeymoon about 'plans' and 'updates', which could only mean one thing- the rebellion. But he assures me that our discussion can wait a week and winks when he tells me to have a memorable honeymoon with my star-crossed lover. I dance with Peeta's dad, who wistfully tells me that he's happy that a Mellark man nabbed the girl of his dreams. His eyes are a little misty as he says it.

I see Peeta dance with my mom, Effie, Madge. We talk to everyone, hug them, thank them, tell them goodbye. We assume that our District 12 family and friends will leave as soon as our reception is over- and we don't want it to end. But it eventually does. After I throw my heavy bouquet with all my might and Greasy Sae enthusiastically catches it. After Peeta gets under my dress and retrieves a lacy garter belt from midway up my thigh, both of us blushing beet red (I had no idea why Cinna had outfitted me with that stretchy thing earlier that day, he just casually mentioned that it was part of an old tradition to wear one). After President Snow himself calls Peeta and I to the middle of the dance floor where he presents to us a key with a heart-shaped bow. And after the unforgettable look of nervous but hopeful anticipation on Peeta's face as he stashes the key in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

And after the reception ends, after everyone goes home or out partying or wherever they're staying for the night, Peeta and I return to find the twelfth floor of the Training Center tower deserted. Though we could have spent the night perfectly content in the sitting room, Peeta tries to ask me in a casual voice if I want to go upstairs to check out the honeymoon suite for a few minutes, just out of curiosity. But his voice cracks as he asks it, giving him away. I smile at his nervousness and nod in reply, holding my uncomfortable wedding shoes in my right hand while taking his trembling arm in my left. We slowly make our way up the stairs. I can feel his heart pounding even as I stand a foot away from him. My heart begins to pound, too. I can guess what he's hoping we've come up here to do.

We unlock the door to our honeymoon suite to find a gigantic heart-shaped bed and hot tub; more chilled champagne in a heart-shaped bucket. He asks me hopefully if I want to take a dip and I nod, feeling brazen from the champagne. We slowly strip off our clothes to our underwear. I may have felt Peeta excited before, but _seeing_ him excited and vulnerable through the flimsy material of his silky boxer shorts is another matter entirely. It is impossible to look at him like that and not feel curious…and, well, turned on. And the amazed look in his piercing blue eyes as he takes in my underwear-clad body excites me even more. We submerge ourselves in the steaming bubbly water, drinking more sweet bubbly alcohol from crystal glasses. We start to kiss and make out just like before, except that it is nothing like before, because we are wet and slippery and practically naked under the bubbles, and because we are husband and wife. Our underwear pulls and tangles in the water, quickly becoming a liability, and our self-consciousness is overcome by our excitement as we eagerly free each other from it.

Peeta and I lose our virginities. We go to the bed and spend the entire rest of the night exploring each other's bodies, learning to feel the kind of physical pleasure that I never thought possible, and experiencing the kind of emotional closeness that I could only dream of. Peeta holds me close the whole time, cupping my face in his hands, kissing me softly on the lips, and telling me that he loves me, over and over again.

But we don't make love because it is our wedding night, or because the Capitol wants us to conceive a child. We don't do it because it's what normal married couples are expected to do, because this situation isn't normal. We don't do it to try and forget what's happened to Annella, Jack, and Mouseface- or to the other tributes for that matter- we will never forget, and we need to remember. We don't even do it because we are a couple of curious teenagers who have trouble keeping our hands off of one other (Well, okay, we are. But that's not why we do it tonight).

We make love because, in Panem, there is just too little of it left.

The End :) (for a while, anyway...)

* * *

A/N: Compared to my other stories, this one was a lot slower, and was probably harder to get into. So if you're reading this and stuck with me the whole time, thanks! Oh, and without trying to sound too shameless, I love all kinds of reviews (as long as they're constructive)- I squeal like a little girl when they hit my Inbox, and try to incorporate them into my writing as much as I can. They're my single biggest reward for posting on here- so thanks to those of you that have taken the time to give me feedback :)


	48. Note

Hi all!

For those still following this story, I posted my new story today, The Reading of the Card, Part II (to be found here: s/9074853/1/The-Reading-of-the-Card-Part-II). I don't want to call it a sequel so much as a continuation...because I have no idea how long it will be or what it will become, I just wanted to have fun writing it for a bit. Anyway, if you want to check it out, please do! Thanks for reading and for your nice reviews :)


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